Backstrom: You've Got to be Kidding Me!
by TnJAGAz
Summary: Revelations on the last few episodes of this series lead to this one. Detective Sergeant Nicole Gravely and Gregory Valentine find out information that blow their whole known worlds apart. Meanwhile Backstrom deals with a threatening letter, a serial killer who breaks the mold, and a new love interest.
1. Chapter 1

Backstrom: You've Got to be Kidding Me!

Author: TnJAGAz – also a Backstrom Fan!

Rating: PG

Classification:

Spoilers: Everything from Season 1 :D

Summary: Revelations on the last few episodes of this series lead to this story. Detective Sergeant Nicole Gravely and Gregory Valentine find out information that blow their whole known worlds apart, while Backstrom discovers threatening letter that will change his life. My thanks to Mislav for his patience, ideas, and prodding to get this story posted.

The characters in this piece are the property of Fox Television, Hart Hanson, Far Field Productions, SoulPancake Productions and Fox Television Entertainment – this story is for non-profit entertainment of Backstrom fans only. No copyright infringement is intended or implied.

 **A/N1: This story is second episode in a seasonal arc for Season Two. Patrolman Gray was featured in Mislav's Backstrom story "The Last Patrol".**

 **Detective Lieutenant Everett Backstrom was still** thinking about Patrolman Gray. Backstrom, was still dressed in his usual uniform for the day, brown slacks, rumpled red plaid shirt, dark brown sports coat and his almost ever present Sea Dogs ball cap, as he got into his car. He was headed back to Special Crimes Unit (SCU) after finding a letter at his house addressed to him. He glanced over at the tissue-covered letter he had just laid on the seat next to him. "Sorry, Dad," the disheveled head of the SCU snorted as turned over the ignition and started the car. At that moment, the early evening sky opened up and a heavy rainstorm began. Backstrom backed out of the gravel driveway next to the pier and pressed on the accelerator and noted how sluggish the car was in responding. Surreptitiously, he glanced at the gear shift to make sure he had put the car in drive. Yep, it was, okay, so what was wrong? Suddenly the car backfired. The rain seemed to respond to the noise by coming down even harder.

"What the hell?!" Everett noted the odor of gasoline filling the car. "Oh dammit!" he yelled as he flung open the door and tossed himself into a large puddle. The car bucked and snorted away from him before coughing flames.

SCU Head stared dumbly at the flaming car for a moment before launching his mud covered and soaking wet self back at the open door of his car which was now wrapped in flames. "No, no, no!" he moaned as greedy flames filled the interior of the sedan.

Unimpeded by the torrential downpour, the flames began to take their toll on the car's interior, eating at the upholstery, causing windows to buckle and snap in the intense heat. Melted plastic fittings looked like strings of molten lava as they dripped into the flaming smoky interior. The car sputtered to halt as one, then a second tire let go with bang as they deflated. As the third and four tires let go, they were joined by the mournful wail of the car's horn.

A sports car vibrating from the heavy bass of a rap song pulled up next to a mud covered Backstrom and rolled down his window. "Hey man, you all right?"

"Just dandy," Everett growled looking the burning mess. There went his evidence – not to mention his mode of transportation. "Can you turn down that jungle beat and call the fire department?"

The guy in the sports car smiled at him. "Chill dude, you got out okay, man." Backstrom gave the man a surly look.

The man's eyes flared and he held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I'm callin.' Man, you need a chill pill."

 ***x*x*x*x*x***

 **Nicole Gravely** was trying hard to put the finishing touches on a passable report that Everett Backstrom could scrawl his signature on. Concentration…any kind of mental concentration was out the window though, at least right now. With the Patrolman Gray case wrapped up, her mind had time to wander back to other mysteries. She still couldn't believe what ADA Steven Kines had told her, not that she would believe anything that came out of that lying creep's mouth, but this…this was too big to ignore.

 _Who was that 25_ _th_ _John?_

 _And just what was so freakin' important about him that got me drummed out of Vice and my 24 convictions overturned?_

Maybe a better question [a little voice in her head warned her] was what kind of dangerous big-shot was this that she almost nabbed? _And, just who did he have in his back pocket?_

Her mind started going into overdrive as it examined possible suspects and motives. She quickly ruled out anyone in Special Crimes Unit. Even Everett Backstrom. Sure, he did odd things, but this was not his style. So whose style was it?

 _The Head of Vice…maybe_

 _The Precinct Commander? that's big…not likely though…then again…_

 _The Chief…whoa, …this is getting scary…_

 _Someone on the Police Civilian Oversight Board? Yikes!_

 _The Mayor?! Holy Cow!_

 _Calm down, Gravely, maybe it's not that bad…_

 _But that would mean Steve *was* trying to protect you…._

 _Or maybe he was just trying to protect himself, and in order to protect himself, he had to protect you as well…_

 _He could have left you hung out to dry…_

 _But he didn't …_

 _But he could have…_

 _Maybe he had a good reason…_

 _The only way to find out is-_

Arrrrggghhh! This wasn't getting her anywhere! She needed to stop thinking about this and concentrate on her work.

 ***x*x*x*x*x***

 **Greg Valentine** wearing a black long sleeved sweatshirt with white accents, black skinny jeans, and no shoes was sitting in the easy chair next to Backstrom's, drinking a beer and thinking about what had learned in the past week. So what if Everett came back home right now and told him to stop drinking all the beer. That would be just like a big brother….

 _I have a brother…_ How weird is that? And the weirdest part of all… _my brother_ … _oops, make that my half-brother_ is none other than Lieutenant Everett Backstrom of the Special Crimes Unit of the Bureau of Police for Portland. _I always figured I'd have a little brother…not a big, hulking cigar-smoking Neanderthal…._

No wonder he always was always curious about what Backstrom was up to. Not that he wasn't an attractive guy…in his own unique, disgusting way. But Greg always knew there was more there to their odd-ball relationship than just mere attraction...however warped it might be.

 _Not so odd-ball now is it?_

"Boy, I need another drink…" _Where the hell did that come from?_ Next, he'd want to smoke or start walking around with three day beard growth and wearing an orange rain-slicker…

He rolled his eyes heavenward. _Oh God, don't let me start doing that…_

Even worse I might start running around saying _'I'm you…'_

That made him smirk, but only for a moment. Wait a minute…maybe that wasn't so bad an idea after all. Lots of TV detectives have brothers who follow in their footsteps. Surely, real cops have the same thing happen.

 _Monk had his hoarder brother…._

 _Michael Weston had his prodigal ne'er do well brother…till he got himself killed…._

 _Dick Tracy had Junior, his adopted son…._

 _Batman had Robin…._

 _Sherlock had his brother who took over his cases…what was his name…?_

Greg smirked and shook his head. "Wow, I'm even starting to think like a detective…or like a TV one, anyway….."

 ***x*x*x*x*x***

 **Nicole** picked up her phone and began punching numbers. Halfway through, though, something stopped her and she cut the connection.

She listened to the buzz of the open line for few moments, not really listening to it, before punching in the numbers again. She almost got to the last number when she slammed the receiver down in its cradle with a bang. John Almond shared a look with Frank Moto as she picked up the phone again and began dialing only to hang up again and shake her head.

John got up and walked over to her desk. "Problem?" he asked the petite strawberry blonde who was wearing a gray sports jacket, olive drab t-shirt, and black skinny jeans.

Nicole whirled around in her seat like she had been shot. "John! No, uhmm, no problem." She looked back at the phone as if contemplating picking up the receiver again.

Nattily dressed John sat on the edge of her desk facing her. "Trying to dial someone?" he asked as only John could.

Detective Sergeant Gravely started to say that 'no, she wasn't' but the look in his kind, concerned eyes shot that to hell.

She looked up at him and sighed. "Do you…do you think Steven…Assistant District Attorney Kines…do you think he can be trusted?"

The tall detective studied her for a moment. "Is that who you were trying to call?"

"Yes," she said in a miserable, quiet voice.

John looked at her some more. Finally he said "Nicole, sometimes you just have to trust the Lord."

"The Lord doesn't know Steve Kines the way I do," she said wearily.

John gave her a paternal smile. "I think you'd be surprised at what the Lord knows." While Nicole was chewing on that, SCU forensic specialist Peter Niedermayer, wearing his typical well put together three piece suit, happened by with a medical report in hand.

He smiled at both of them. "Hey John, is this a private meeting?"

John and Nicole glanced at each other. "I'll let Nicole decide that," he said.

Peter gave Nicole a concerned look. "What's going on?"

Nicole flushed crimson. "Nothing important. I need to get back to work, guys." She opened up a blank report template and began typing.

John looked at Peter. "Detective Sergeant Gravely is unsure about whether or not to call ADA Kines about what he told her earlier today."

Peter knew immediately what he was talking about. In fact, the whole unit knew. He walked over and sat on the edge of the desk to the right of her, giving her an intent look. "What does your heart tell you?"

She stopped typing and gave him an irritated glare. "That's the problem! My heart says 'Call him!' while my brain says 'Are you crazy!? Have you forgotten what he did?!'"

Peter nodded. "The 25th John. Trust issues can be very bad karma for a relationship," he said sagely.

She smirked at him. "Bad karma? Steven admitted that he had deliberately informed my 25th potential bust that I was Vice! And the result was that my 24 previous convictions were overturned and I was drummed out and reassigned here by the Chief!"

She turned back to her screen and began typing furiously. "Besides, there is *no relationship*. That boat sailed when he let that guy, whoever he was, off scot free!"

"But you still have feelings for him." Nadia Paquet was standing looking at her over the top of Nicole's monitor. Nadia may have been the SCU's research and cyberspace expert, but she made Nicole envious with her elegant outfits. A little out of place in police squad room, but Nadia was a civilian administrator hired by the Chief for Backstrom's unit, so she got a pass for dressing to the nines.

She looked around. Trapped. John on her left, Peter on her right, Nadia in front of her, now joined by Officer Moto.

At that moment, her phone rang. Saved by the bell, sort of. "Special Crimes Unit, Detective Sergeant Nicole Gravely speaking."

"GRAVELY! Backstrom bellowed on the other end of the line. "Get your butt over here to the 500th block of 23rd Street. I need a ride!"

"Uh what? Why? What's wrong? Where's your car?" Nicole looked around at the others as they all came closer to her to hear what their boss was saying.

"Just stop babbling and get over here! And tell the rest of them to stop eavesdropping and get over here too! We've got a case!"

"Whose case?" she said as she gathered her purse and jacket and motioned for the others to do the same.

"Mine! Someone just tried to kill me!"

 ***x*x*x*x*x***

 **Greg** looked blearily at the clock by the television. He could have sworn it said 55544:00000. _Okay, time to stop drinking…._

He started to get up from the chair, only to have gravity defeat his efforts. Well, gravity and one too many beers.

 _Whoa, better to just sit here and watch the room spin…._ he thought hazily.

While sitting and waiting for his equilibrium to stabilize enough for him to make it to his bed, he wondered when big brother would get home. He found himself chortling about that one. _Oh man, what a day_. Idly he wondered what kind of case his half-brother was working on now. _Probably some byzantine murder plot that left a hand or finger of the murder victim and nothing else to go on but big brother's powers of deduction to figure out who the bad guy was. A finger or hand?! Ugh, that was gross! Wonder if he ever got any simple, straightforward cases?_ Then the logical part of his mind, drowning under booze, but nevertheless able to muster a coherent thought told him _if it was simple and straightforward then they wouldn't send it to him…._

He looked again at the clock. The numbers that had been so jumbled before were looking more normal 606:0609 Okay, maybe not so normal, _better shut my eyes until what they see make sense…._

 ***x*x*x*x*x***

 **On** the way over, Nicole had debated about putting on her lights and sirens, but then she remembered how old Everett Backstrom's car was and decided against it. John, who was seated next to her, also said nothing about it. In front them, Moto also did not have his lights or sirens going. They were all thinking the same thing _Probably just an electrical short or fuel leak…_

The heavy downpours seemed to be coming in waves. Nicole kept having to shift her wipers from low speed to high speed to keep her windshield clear.

It wasn't long before they reached the 500th block of 23rd street only a few blocks from Backstrom's house. A PFD pumper truck was across the street from what remained of Backstrom's car with its emergency lights on, along with an ambulance, but the fire crew didn't seem too much in a hurry to unroll hoses and hook them to the truck since they were in the middle of fierce downpour. The car itself was still smoking, but the fire had pretty much been extinguished by the rain.

Everett marched over to Gravely's unmarked car as she pulled up. "What the hell?! No lights or sirens!?"

John leaned over and looked up at the Head of the SCU with his usual benign, friendly smile. "There was no need. Traffic was pretty light this evening-"

Backstrom savagely cut him off. "I didn't ask for traffic report, I asked why you didn't have your lights and siren on! Somebody tried to kill me in my car!"

"What happened? Are you all right?" Nicole asked hoping to distract his boss from his anger as she put her dark blue jacket hood raincoat over her head and got out of the car. Detective Almond, wearing his black raincoat and trademark matching fedora, got out on the other side and walked around to where Nicole and Everett were standing.

"I'm fine. No thanks to them," he said pointing at the EMS crew who was standing next to the firemen. "I was driving along when I noticed the car was acting sluggish. I gave it more gas and the interior began to fill gasoline fumes and then smoke! I got out of the car and called the Fire Department, but you can see what a great job they're doing."

Nicole looked over the firemen standing in the pouring rain. "We figured the rain would take care of it," one of them, probably the captain, yelled at her.

She then looked in askance at the EMS crew. "We checked him out, but he was okay," they shouted back.

Everett turned and gave them a scowl. "There was a fire in the engine and flames in the interior of the car!"

"We lifted the hood and cut a hole in the roof," one of the firemen shot back.

"Morons!" Everett growled. As Moto and Peter walked over, he stabbed a finger in Peter's direction. "Niedermayer! Go see what evidence you can get from the car!"

Peter looked at the smoking ruin and then back at Nicole and John. "He's kidding, right?" he asked in an incredulous voice.

"C'mon man," Moto said urging him toward the burned out sedan. Peter tugging his driver's cap down tighter on his head reluctantly went along with Portland uniformed officer.

"Did you lose anything of value?" Nicole asked, becoming all business.

"I did. I had a threatening letter that was mailed to me this evening," Everett reported snippily.

"You did have? What happened to it?' Nicole asked in her all-business 'just the facts' voice.

"What do you think happened, Gravely?" he said snidely. He looked over at John. "Call an arson investigator, John. Those clowns think the car malfunctioned!"

"It's almost twenty years old!" one of the firemen shot back.

"Are you sure it wasn't just something wrong with the car, Everett?" John asked.

"It was working just fine this morning," Everett said testily and loud enough for the firemen to hear.

Nicole could hear them swearing and a couple looked like they wanted to fight.

"You can go now," she told them hoping to keep them from coming over and pummeling her boss into the pavement.

The fire captain waved at Nicole. "Great!" He looked at his crew. "C'mon guys, we'll have chili tonight."

"I hope you get indigestion!" Everett shouted at them as truck turned off its emergency lights and pulled away from the scene.

"Don't antagonize them," Nicole warned.

"What about us?" the EMS technicians yelled over at Nicole.

"He's okay?" John asked.

"As far as we could tell," one of the techs shot back.

"Go ahead, go," Nicole said unenthusiastically as she waved at them.

"Thanks." The two technicians got in the ambulance, turned off its emergency lights, and pulled away into the developing darkness.

Peter walked back to Nicole's car with Moto in tow.

"What did you find?" Nicole asked.

"The interior is charred," Peter reported unnecessarily as he stripped off his soaked blue surgical gloves.

"The engine compartment isn't much better," Moto added.

"Could you tell anything?" Nicole asked in a hopeful voice.

This time Peter nodded. "I think I might have spotted the source of the ignition, but I won't be able to tell for sure until we get it back to the garage where I can take a closer look at it."

"Everett, are you going to be all right?" the tall black detective asked.

Everett nodded. "I'm fine, John. I just want to find out who did this and why. Moto! Call-"

Frank Moto finished his thought. "Already called them. They should be here in few minutes."

"How long was it before the car started acting sluggishly?" Nicole asked trying to get him back on track – the more they learned about what happened the quicker they could solve this case.

Backstrom obviously didn't see it that way. "What do you mean?" Either that or he was suffering from an adrenaline crash.

Nicole gently prodded him. "I mean, was it acting sluggish from the moment you started it, or did it start acting sluggish later on-"

Nicole didn't get to finish her thought as the Head of the SCU seemed to come back to life. "I first noticed it as I came down this street. And no, I didn't flood it or floor it."

John exchanged a look with Nicole. Maybe there was more to this than just an old car giving up the ghost.

Before Gravely or Almond could ask their boss anymore questions, a flat bed tow truck pulled up with its emergency lights on. The rain had settled into a light, almost foggy, drizzle.

The driver put it in park and stuck his head out the passenger window. He was wearing a Seattle Seahawks ball cap and gray rain slicker. A cigarette hung from the corner of his grizzled mouth.

"Car fire, eh?" he said to Nicole.

"We need it taken back to the precinct garage," Everett told him.

"You suspect arson?" the tow driver said with a hint of a smirk in his voice.

"We suspect attempted murder," Everett shot back.

"Really?" The driver said in disbelief "Whose?"

"Mine," Everett said in an even more irritated voice.

The driver looked at the smoking wreck and then back at Backstrom. "It's awful old. Are you sure it just didn't have a short in its electrical system or a fuel leak? That does happen with these older cars-"

"It didn't have a short in its electrical system or a fuel leak!" Backstrom snapped. "It was working just fine!"

"Just take it back to the precinct garage," John said in a calm voice to tow truck driver.

He looked doubtfully at the wreck. "Okay, I'll try, but it might come apart when I pull it up onto the flatbed."

"Just do your best," Nicole said wearily.

 ***x*x*x*x*x***

 **It** took a little effort, but she was finally able to get the small kitchen window open. She wanted to be sure she did this just in case their spirits became trapped in here so that they would have a way to leave.

Nodding in satisfaction, she headed back through the living room past the body of man dressed black slacks and now stained yellow dress shirt sitting in his easy chair, his bloody head leaning forward as if he were unconscious or asleep. She headed back to the bedroom where her second victim was laying face down on the bed.

She looked at the woman for a moment, wishing she hadn't put up such a struggle. Her once pretty face was now mottled with red and blue marks, some turning deep purple. Blood leaked out of her ears and nose onto the bed, making small stains on the fresh linen sheets.

"I'm sorry, Amy, I truly am," she said to the brunette haired body. Amy had been a 'bottle-blonde' but after getting married; she had decided to go back to her natural hair color. The killer smiled, she had to admit she did look better as a brunette.

Amy's sightless eyes were focused on the clock, as if trying to see how many more minutes she had to live.

The killer sighed and went over to the dresser and began pulling valuables out of the drawers and ransacking the jewelry box looking for anything of value.

Sitting in the hallway, she already had two canvas grocery sacks filled with small appliances, their smart phones, and a laptop. The flatscreen television had been too big to carry out, so she just dumped it onto the floor in the living room, making it look like it had been smashed in the fight.

She gave the body on the bed one last look before heading back to the hallway, where she picked up the bags and made her way back to the living room.

When she got there, she set them down and walked over the table next to the dead man's chair. Without hesitation, she picked up the glass he had been drinking from when she had surprised him.

The vodka felt good going down her throat. For a moment it chased away the demons that were haunting her. At least she had done the right thing where Michael and Amy were concerned. She didn't so much regret killing him. He was a chauvinist pig who didn't know how good he had it with Amy, but now that he was dead, maybe he understood that. Amy, though, she regretted killing her. It had been a heat of the moment thing. Amy wouldn't stop crying about Michael, even though they were enjoying themselves. She kept telling her stop, that they had to help Michael.

She had just wanted her to stop crying. That's all. Well, she probably understood that now. Michael was in a better place and so was she. Better this than to go on living the way they were. Oh they said they were happy, but Michael…the things he did to her…how could she be happy with that?

She drained the last of the vodka and carefully put the glass back on the table. She adjusted her gloves and thought about spitting on Michael, no, that would leave DNA evidence – and Michael and Amy didn't want her doing that.

She was going to miss seeing Amy in her cute little outfits.

The angry buzz of the dryer interrupted her thoughts. She walked out to the laundry room and opened the dryer. Everything was still nice and toasty. She quickly put the items in a nearby clothes basket and carried it into the bathroom.

Next she went back to the bedroom and gently lifted lithe Amy off the bed and using a fireman's carry, got her to the bathroom. It took some effort, but she got her into the tub, propping her up at the end away from the faucet. When she thought she had her seated just right, she turned on the water and then went back to the basket and pulled out a bra and pair of panties and laid them on the bathroom sink. Then she took Amy's jeans and t-shirt and put them on the hanger on the back of the bathroom door.

Sighing, she went back to the living room, picked up the bags, and made her way to the wide open back door.

As she got in her car and turned over the ignition, she could hear sirens in the distance getting closer and louder. The 911 call that Michael made must have gone through!

She repeated her mantra whenever things like this happened. _Don't panic…just do like we've practiced. Now, just like we practiced-take the next alley up ahead and drive over to the next street, then follow that alley until you get to the freeway…._

 _To Be Continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**You've Got to be Kidding Me! Chapter 2**

 **A/N - There may be a slight delay before Chapter 3 is posted. Rest assured it will be posted as soon  
as it is done.**

 **When** they got back to the Special Crimes Unit, Nadia Paquet had already put photos that Peter had texted her up on their crime board. Several were of Everett Backstrom's burnt out husk of a car from a couple of different angles

Nadia also had an annotated and colorfully illustrated list of things that could have possibly happened to Backstrom's car.

"Wow, nice job," Peter said admiring her work. Nadia gave him a pleased smile in return.

As Peter headed for the garage to supervise the tow truck driver bringing in the remains of Backstom's car, Everett, who was eating a cheeseburger, came over and looked over at the board. He immediately began frowning and waving at the board. "Get rid of all those pictures of non-crime things that could have caused the fire," he ordered as soon as he had finished swallowing.

Nadia's face fell when she heard his criticism of her hard work. "Why, did I do something wrong? Your car is old, is it not?"

Backstrom screwed up his face in irritation. "Yes, yes, it's old, it's positively prehistoric, but someone intended to kill me by making my car catch fire. So pretty pictures of non-criminal causes just clutter up the board," he said cuttingly.

Nadia seemed to wilt under Backstrom's verbal assault. Nicole looked over at John who nodded.

"I don't know, Lieutenant, we might just want to move them over to the side, not throw them away," John said thoughtfully while moving over to the evidence board, appearing to study it.

Backstrom shot him a baleful glare. "What are you talking about, John?"

Nicole quickly jumped to his defense. "He's right, Lieutenant. What if the killer is using a supposedly non-criminal way to start a car fire to hide his true intentions?"

Everett hadn't considered that. "Made it look like an accident?"

Gravely nodded. "Exactly," _Whew._

Everett Backstrom stared at the board. "I'm a killer, not a cold blooded Neanderthal…I'm smart, I'm slick, I make things that look like accidents…. Yeah." He turned back to Nadia who had put on an aire of being unaffected by his harsh criticism. Everett ignored that. He was onto something. "Put the non-criminal ways a car fire can start over to the side – we'll look at each one and eliminate them one by one until we figure out how he…or she…did this."

Backstrom turned away and headed for his office.

"Yes, Lieutenant," Nadia said, giving Nicole and John a secret smile when Backstrom wasn't looking.

John started to sit down at his desk when his phone rang.

"Special Crimes Unit, Detective John Almond speaking," he listened for moment before grabbing a notepad and began scribbling hastily.

"Yeah, all right, we can be there in twenty," he said looking up Backstrom and the other members of the SCU.

"What is it?" Moto asked looking over his shoulder at the scribbled notes.

John grabbed his hat and rain slicker. "There's been a double homicide in Lake Oswego, Detective Sergeant Lovejoy is asking for our help."

 ***x*x*x*x*x**

 **Everett Backstrom eyed** the cheeseburger on plate next to Michael Hill's body in the living room. He had been trying to be good. He had given up smoking [that was hard], drinking [well, mostly, anyway], chasing women [with Amy Grazanian keeping a watch over comatose Oxblood 1st Nation police Captain Jesse Rocha, that ended any rekindling of their romance], excessive eating…so what was one more little cheeseburger going to hurt? Sure, he had just had a cheeseburger before he came over here – but that was stress relief. Now, he was just hungry.

Nicole saw Everett eyeing the half eaten cheeseburger and knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Don't," she warned him quietly as they made their way over to Nathan Lovejoy who was waiting for them.

"What? You'd think I'd eat the evidence in a case?" Backstrom said to her incredulously.

"You've done it before," Gravely said in a no-nonsense tone turning her back to him.

Backstrom swore under his breath and joined the little group around the easy chair.

John walked over to the vice detective. "Nathan, good to see you again,"

Nathan Lovejoy was dressed in his uniform of the day, starched white shirt, neat—a clean (probably dry-cleaned) suit, and shiny black shoes. He turned his sallow face toward John and gave his old partner a weary smile. "Wish it were under better circumstances, John." He turned back toward the victim and squatted down and looked at the victim as if searching for something.

"What have we got?" Nicole asked trying to get this investigation started before Backstrom did something regrettable.

Nathan stood up and sighed, pulling his spiral notepad out of his shirt pocket and flipping through it. "Michael Hill, age 31, bludgeoned with a blunt object and then garroted with an electrical cable wrapped with razor wire." He flipped through a couple of more pages, "Mr. Hill works for, ah, Tinley and Associates." As he said this he pushed his black horn rimmed glasses back up his nose, giving anyone looking at him the idea that they were looking at Clark Kent.

John looked carefully at Michael's body. The sawing on the neck was evident, as were the gouts of dried blood down the front and back of his shirt, staining the easy chair. "Nasty," he said in reply.

"Funny how the killer didn't disturb his sandwich or the glass of vodka," Detective Lovejoy noted.

"Almost like he or she wanted us to find him this way…" Backstrom said to himself as he hungrily eyed the half-eaten cheeseburger and then looked at Michael Hill.

"He or she?" Lovejoy said, pencil in hand. He was eager for Backstrom and his SCU to give him a hand with this baffling case. His boss, Lieutenant Tom Skeller, had given him permission to ask for their help.

The Head of the SCU ignored him and squatted down in front of the body, looking at the victim for a few minutes. Sighing he stood up. "Where's the other body?"

Nathan nodded. "In the bathroom. C'mon, I'll show you…"

Nicole moved close to John. "Do you notice anything weird about this place?"

John looked around. "You mean besides the glass of vodka with a cheeseburger? Like all the windows and doors open? Yeah, I saw Backstrom making note of it when we walked in."

They joined Detective Lovejoy and Backstrom standing in the blood spattered bathroom. It was a large bathroom with a double vanity, a two person tub and a large shower. In the far corner of the room was an enclosed toilet area with its own sink.

Nathan flipped through his spiral notepad again. "Amy Davis, age, 29. The killer apparently surprised her while she was taking a bath, she was strangled and her neck broken," he said looking up at the trio from the SCU. "She's currently, er, she was unemployed." Again he pushed his glasses back up as he finished.

Everett looked at the body and shook his head. "She wasn't killed here…she-" He stopped and looked at Nicole.

"What's the matter, Gravely?" he asked in an annoyed more than concerned voice.

John looked at her for the first time since they had entered the room. He saw a look of recognition mixed with sadness on her face.

"Well?" Backstrom said prompting her.

Nicole sighed heavily looking down at the body. "I-I used to work…with her…when I was in Vice," she said quietly to the trio of men standing there.

Nathan gave Nicole a sympathetic look before noticing Everett's scowl. He consulted his notepad again. "We, uh, think the killer broke in through the back doors, either didn't know whether Ms. Davis was in the bathroom or she was in some other part of the house. The killer went into the living room, caught Mr. Hill napping, killed him, and then made his way to the bathroom where he found and killed Ms. Davis."

They went back out to the living room where now crime scene technicians were taking pictures of the whole macabre scene. Everett noted the cheeseburger still had not been touched.

"What about coming in through the front door?" Backstrom said looking at the open front door.

"What do you mean?" Nathan said in response to Backstrom's incomplete thought.

He gave Nathan a sarcastic smirk. "I mean, unless Michael was a very sound sleeper, the killer would have been noticed by Mr. Hill as he made his way into the living room."

"So what do you think happened, Lieutenant?" Nicole asked her boss.

"I think the killer had a key," Backstrom stated bluntly.

"Really." Nathan said in a disbelieving voice. "Came right in through the front door?"

Backstrom added absently ignoring him. "Yeah, really. I think the killer knew our couple. He or she possibly snuck in the front door, Michael was dozing, probably a late night or just plain tired and after eating half a cheeseburger and/or drinking half a glass of vodka or beer, he got sleepy."

"You keep saying he or she," Nathan said making a quick note on his pad.

The Head of the SCU gave him a fakey smile. "I like to keep my options open." Backstrom walked back over to the body. "Weird combination, don't you think? I mean, hard liquor and a cheeseburger? A good beer is what I have with a cheeseburger," Backstrom said as he moved closer to the chair. Nicole unconsciously also moved forward to make sure he didn't try any sleight of hand to pick up and hide the half-eaten cheeseburger.

"So the killer drank a glass of vodka?" John said.

They all looked at the glass of vodka sitting next to the cheeseburger.

Before anyone could say anything, a voice called out. "Lieutenant, Sergeant Lovejoy, we found something in the kitchen…"

As a group, they all headed to the kitchen. Lovejoy was furiously scribbling notes as they went.

When they got there, two crime scene technicians were putting a beer can and a mug in evidence bags. "This beer can was recently rinsed out and the mug was put in the dish drainer to dry."  
One of the techs announced to Backstrom and the others.

"A killer with a cleaning fetish?" Lovejoy asked. He started to reach for his notepad.

"Or Mr. Hill is a neat-nik. He finished the beer and went for something stronger…" Nicole said  
thinking aloud. She was also thinking about Amy. The last time she had seen her was right before Steven Kines had told her 25th John that she was Vice.

Backstrom shot her a dirty look. "Do you mix beer and vodka?" he asked her, knocking all other thoughts out of her head.

Gravely considered her answer for a moment. "Wouldn't be my first choice…" she finally replied.

"Probably not Mr. Hill's either…." Backstrom added as he turned around and walked back into the living room and over the drink cabinet next to the stereo system. When he opened it, he found a complete array of hard liquors, including a bottle of vodka, three-fourths full.

Using his gloved hand, Backstrom pulled the bottle out and looked at it. "There are at least two distinct sets of prints on the bottle and a tiny fleck of blood." The Head of the SCU took the unopened bottle and sniffed it.

Nicole didn't know what to think about this action. She looked at John who kept his face a mask.

She turned to Nathan who was looking at Backstrom like he was someone that had escaped the psycho ward.

"The bottle's been cleaned of blood," he said handing the bottle to John.

Detective Sergeant Almond looked at the bottle, "But the killer missed the set of prints near the neck of the bottle…"

Backstrom nodded, pleased with himself at his correct deduction. "Uh huh, exactly."

"Just what did you smell on the bottle?" Lovejoy asked him as he began scribbling away on his notepad that he had once again pulled from his pocket.

"A household cleaner. Our 'neat-nik killer' as Gravely called him or her, cleaned almost all the blood off the bottle, except on the neck. I'm betting this is one of the blunt instruments used on Mr. Hill's head."

Nicole noted that Nathan was now furiously scribbling on his notepad. "one of…" he said to himself as he continued writing.

Nathan then motioned to one of the uniformed officers standing in the room. "Have the Crime Scene Techs check the cleaning supplies to see if any have been recently used," he told him.

The officer nodded and headed for the kitchen.

By this time SCU forensic pathologist, Sergeant Peter Niedermayer, was in the king-sized bathroom examining the second crime scene. The two-person tub was over against the other wall away from the shower.

"She didn't die in here," he stated to the group as he turned and shined the headlamp in their eyes. Realizing what he was doing and that they had been momentarily blinded, he turned down the lamp. "She was placed in the tub after she was killed."

"Where do you think she was killed?" Nicole asked the SCU forensic specialist.

But before he could answer, Backstrom spoke up. "In the bedroom, after she and the killer had sex," he said in a matter-fact-voice.

"You're kidding," Peter said looking at Backstrom in disbelief.

The Head of the SCU gave him a deadpan stare. "Nope."

While Lovejoy and the others were processing that fact, Backstrom nodded at Peter. "Check her clothes."

Peter walked over and focused his head lamp at the pair of jeans and t-shirt hung on the rack on the back of the bathroom door.

"They have chlorine stains, Lieutenant," he announced in a surprised voice.

"Amy Davis was very careful with her clothes. She would have thrown out anything that got chlorine splashed on them," Nicole stated. John gave her a questioning look. "She was a fashion maven, not a slob," she said as justification for her first statement. John nodded his head but Nicole could tell he wasn't buying that explanation. He would definitely want to know more later about what Nicole knew about Ms. Amy Davis.

Backstrom walked back over and smelled the undies lying on the counter.

The Homicide detective's eyes grew wide with shock. "Hey, what th- what are you doing?!" Nathan said in a stunned voice. Nicole rolled her eyes in frustration at her boss's antics. John was simply stoic about the whole thing.

"Chlorine," Backstrom announced to the group. "The killer washed all of Ms. Davis' clothes."

"You mean to say this neat-nik burglar and killer rinsed out a beer can and mug and then after having sex with her and killing her, washed Ms. Davis' clothes, spilling chlorine on them in the process?" Nathan said in a disbelieving voice. Peter shared his look of disbelief.

"I also smelled dryer sheets," Backstrom noted.

Moto, who had been standing by the bathroom door, leaned over and gave the pants still hanging on the rack a cursory sniff. "He's right," he announced to the surprised group.

Nathan Lovejoy began shaking his head, putting his trusty notepad in his shirt pocket. "I don't believe this. I thought I was doing a good thing, but you came out here and turned a double homicide into a three ring circus!"

"Nathan, you asked us to come out here and help. This is what we found," John stated in that calm manner of his. "Backstrom may do things other detectives wouldn't do, but nine times out of ten he's right and he gets the killer.

"Cleaning solutions, bleach, and now dryer sheets! Who is this killer, Mary Poppins?!" Nathan threw up his hands in exasperation. His trademark glasses slid down to the end of his nose. "It's too crazy, John! Lieutenant Skeller will never believe it, especially since this was all Backstrom's idea," Nathan saw the angry look on Backstrom's face. "No offense, Lieutenant, but this is too bizarre for words." He finished that thought by pushing the glasses back up on his face.

Backstrom gave him a dirty look. "Look, Lovejoy, if you can stop scribbling on your stupid little notepad for five minutes, you might learn something. The killer, whoever they are, has a sense of trying to clean up after themselves. They also have an affinity for vodka. There's something else going on here as well, how else can you explain all the doors and windows being open?"

"This is nuts…Skeller's going to think I've lost my mind," Lovejoy mumbled as he walked away from the group, headed for the bathroom door.

John stopped him before he could exit. "Then let us take the case, Nathan. Let us prove this is what the killer did and why."

Nathan Lovejoy turned back to him and threw up his hands again in surrender. "Sure, what the hell, John. This is too bizarre for Homicide anyway, good luck." He turned and stalked out of the bathroom, pushing his glasses back up on his face as he went.

No one had noticed that Backstrom had slipped out of the bathroom as well.

 ***x*x*x*x*x**

 **After** finally convincing the Lieutenant last night that, no, eating a Michael Hill's half-eaten cheeseburger [even if he did cut off the part that the guy had chewed on] was still wrong. She got him to give her the disgusting mess so she could take it to Neidermayer so he could examine it.

She didn't know which was worse - acting like an oversexed Debbie from 'Debbie Does Dallas' so she could lure Johns in like moths to a light bulb, or trying to keep Everett Backstrom from sabotaging his own cases. In her mind, the two jobs were in a dead heat for worst job ever….

Still, Backstrom had granted her a lot of leeway that her old boss, Evan Scone in Vice, had never given her. There all she had was a role to play…a tramp to any and all men, especially lonely rich men with more money than brains. And when she wasn't doing that, then she was schlepping around doing grunt work because she was the new kid on the block.

Here in SCU, she was second in command. She got to work with the legendary senior Detective Sergeant John Almond…true, he was burned out after nearly twenty years on the force…but truthfully, he still had to lot to offer all of them…and the SCU. So maybe this job did rate higher than working for Scone.

That lead her thoughts back to Amy Davis. Amy always did have big plans and dreams – snagging her a wealthy man, getting that house with the picket fence and the 2.5 kids. She couldn't believe that Amy had hooked up with Tinsley and Associates' Michael Hill while she was hooking…and why were they killed? Did the 25th John have something to do with that?

Maybe Steven knew the answer. Now she had to figure out how to approach Steven Kines _…and kill two birds with one stone…._

And maybe John *could* help with her current problem. _As long as he didn't involve everyone else…_ she thought darkly about the incident yesterday. She got up from her desk and walked over to John's. She could tell he was looking at a brief or maybe a report.

She cleared her throat.

John, nattily dressed as usual in a light blue shirt, paisley tie and gray slacks and jacket, turned in his chair. "What can I do for you, Nicole?" he asked in his usual friendly manner.

As he turned, she caught a glimpse of what he was working on. She noticed references to scripture quotes and a long summary about 'demons'.

He noticed she was looking at his desk and he smiled at her. "I'm using my break to work on a sermon for Wednesday night," he explained.

"Oh," was all she said in response. She stood there for a moment while he wrote down a few more notes. He looked up at her when she saw she was still standing there.

"Did you want to ask me something?" he gently prompted the young Detective Sergeant wearing a black sweater jacket, gray shirt her gray slacks along with her favorite pendant.

"You told me I'd be surprised at what the Lord knows about Steven Kines," she replied.

He chuckled softly at that one. "Nicole, think about it. I'm a preacher."

Nicole shook her head. "Okay, right, sorry. But do you think I can trust him?"

John looked at her for a moment. "Nicole, if it were me, I'd want to hear what he has to say and then make up my mind about him."

"You really think, I should listen to him?" There was real doubt in her voice.

"Are you worried you'll just believe anything he says whether it's the truth or not?"

"Yes…no…maybe…I don't know," she hedged.

"Nicole, I have faith that you'll do the right thing. I don't think you're the kind to be bowled over by smooth talk."

"You don't?" That surprised and pleased her at the same time.

"No, I don't. Just approach him as you would any suspect in a case. Hear him out, see if it rings true. You're a detective."

"Right, I am. Thanks, John, you've been a big help."

He gave her that gentle smile of his. "My pleasure. Let me know how it turns out."

She gave big, sweet John Almond a beaming smile. "I will, John. Thanks."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Assistant District Attorney Steven Kines** was sitting at his desk, looking at the day's trial notes. He adjusted his tie again, as if it was strangling him because it was tied too tight. His jet black curly hair was more unkempt than usual. And his usual five o'clock shadow was more like a six or seven o'clock shadow. He didn't notice Nicole Gravely standing there in her khaki raincoat, her hair pulled up and clipped into a loose bun, watching him.

She had mixed feelings about this meeting. Part of her wanted to run into his arms. She wanted to be with him. They had been good together. He had even given her pointers on what would make Vice convictions 'slam dunks' as far as the courts were concerned. She had even thought about asking for a transfer to court security. But then that brought her thoughts back to the 25th John and how everything was so messed up now, maybe permanently. She couldn't let herself think bleak thoughts like that right now. She had to learn what he knew about the 25th John.

She rapped on his doorframe. "Burning the midnight oil, ADA Kines?" she said with a half-smile that slowly faded as she thought about how they had ended up at this point in their 'relationship'.

Steven's head shot up. "Nicole!" He quickly got up from his chair, but the look of scathing contempt that had replaced her half smile stopped him cold.

His haunted look almost melted her resolve. "Nicole, I'm really sorry for what happened-"

Nicole's eyes were bright with tears, but her voice was ice cold. "For what, Steven? Having my 24 convictions overturned? For Scone throwing me out of Vice? For the Chief reassigning me to Everett Backstrom's Special Crime Unit? For revealing to my 25th John that I was Vice? Which one are you sorry for, Steven, or are you equally sorry for all four?"

She could see that hurt him, good. He moved closer to her. "Nicole, you don't understand-"

Ooo, that did it. That killed any romantic feelings that might have been left ' _You don't understand_ ' Her eyes flashed.

"Oh, I understand, Steven. My 25th John, your friend, your buddy, was going to be snared by me—you couldn't have that happen, so you told him about me and my operation, and then he forced you to overturn my 24 previous convictions—or was that something you did all on your own because I had illegally entrapped those poor innocent Johns? That's what it said in my official reprimand, Steven. They were innocent, right? I was wrong."

Instead of him seeing her as a poor, little misguided Detective Sergeant of Everett Backstrom's Special Crimes Unit, he looking at her with another emotion—remorse. Was it remorse for what he did, or something for something else. His words sounded heartfelt. "Nicole, please, let me explain-"

However Nicole Gravely was tired and had had enough. Enough explanations, enough pep talks, enough reprimands, enough. "You don't have to explain, Mr. Kines, but you should also know that we, the SCU, are looking at my 25th John, your friend, your buddy, your pal, as our *number one* murder suspect in the Michael Hill and Amy Davis murders."

Steven Kines was definitely not angered by her statement, but he was…confused? "The double homicide out in Lake Oswego? Nicole, you can't be serious."

Wrong thing to say, especially to the woman who he had a hand in tossing her out of Vice. "I'm dead serious, Mr. Kines, and when the trail leads back to you, I'm going to take a *special pleasure* in coming over and arresting *you* as an accessory to a double murder."

The venom with which Nicole said that seemed to shock the Portland ADA. As she turned to leave that seemed to animate him again. "Nicole, wait…Detective Gravely!"

Detective Sergeant Gravely turned back to her former boyfriend. "Yes, Assistant District Attorney Kines?" she said in a clipped tone.

There was that look of regret again "Nicole, I…I understand our relationship is dead. Maybe it's for the best. Still, there is something that you need to know."

She didn't care to hear whatever it was he wanted to say, but as John Almond had told her 'how else are you going to possibly find out what really happened?' "I'm listening," she replied somewhat impatiently.

Steven Kines looked around and for the first time since this conversation started, Nicole saw real fear flit through the ADA's features. He shook his head. "No…no, not here. In the parking garage, next door. One hour."

What kind of secret squirrel act was this? She gave him an irritated look. "Why? Why in the parking garage?"

There was flash of anger that lit his face. "Just do it, Nicole!" he snapped. When he saw the surprised look on her face, he relented. "For me, Nicole, for old time's sake? If not for that, for what we had…?"

There it was a genuine plea and whatever it was he had to tell her made him snap at her. Now she had to know what was going on.

"Please, I'll tell you everything in an hour, Nicole. Promise me you'll be there, I'll explain everything." He looked sad, and maybe a little broken, maybe realizing what he had lost.

Okay, she'd give him this. But he tried anything, she'd personally taser him and haul his unconscious butt down to booking. "All right Steven, for what we had, one hour."  
 **  
x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Greg woke up.** The room had stopped spinning and the clock looked fairly normal too. It was too late to go out [well, not that late], but he just didn't feel up to an evening of prowling Portland's alternative bars and clubs looking for some companionship. Aw, who was he kidding? He just didn't feel like shacking up tonight.

He was about to get up from his chair and go to bed when he heard a key turning in the lock, heard the door to their waterborne home open and stale cigar smoke waft in on the rain soaked breeze.

"What are you doing here?" Everett declared as he came down the stairs dripping rainwater off his reddish orange slicker and dark green 'Steelhead Tugs' ball cap. "I figured you would be out trolling for young gigolos. Isn't that what you usually do this time of night?"

"I do, usually, but I didn't feel like it tonight," Greg replied as he got up, albeit unsteadily.

The Portland Police detective gave him a visual once over. "Tied one on, eh? Drowning your sorrows about a boy-toy who found another lover?" he snorted.

"No," Valentine declared coolly. "If you must know, I was thinking about the fact that you're my half-brother and what that means."

"Oh, don't go all sentimental on me," Everett growled as he walked over the refrigerator and opening it, pulled out a half-eaten turkey sandwich and an unopened beer.

"What? You don't think I have a right to be emotional after learning that we share a daddy?" Greg said sarcastically as only a little brother could.

Detective Backstrom gave his half-brother a grim sarcastic chuckle. "Don't make me sick. It's bad enough I have him as a dad," he grumbled as he sat down heavily in his chair.

Greg looked disdainfully at the mess he was leaving. "Aren't you going to take that off? You're getting the floor and your chair all wet."

Backstrom gave his 'half-brother' a surly look. "Relax, 'mom'" he said as he put his still smoldering stogie in the ashtray next to his chair and took a bite of his sandwich. "I want to eat this sandwich first," he said around the food in his mouth as he looked around.

"Where's the remote?" he demanded.

"I thought you were giving up smoking," When he didn't get any response, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "You're impossible." Greg walked over and picked it up out of his chair. "Here."

"Thanks," Everett said with a cruel smirk turning on a sports channel and twisting the cap off his beer letting it clatter on the floor.

Greg sighed in exasperation. "You're going to pick that up, right? I live here too, you know."

Everett scowled as he tried to watch the latest sports scores. "Relax, I'll get it when I take my slicker off."

"Will that be in a few minutes or when you wake up tomorrow morning?" Greg said snidely.

Everett turned around in his chair and looked at him. "What is your problem?" he demanded.

"My problem is I have genius slob detective for a half-brother, and while he can solve Portland's most baffling cases, he can't pick up on the fact that I might want to talk about the fact that our dad is Sheriff Blue Backstrom!"

Everett sighed disgustedly as he put down his food and drink. "Okay, okay! You don't have to have a hissy fit about it." He sighed again and looked at his newly discovered half-brother.

"Fine. What do you want to talk about 'little brother'?"

"You told me he beat up on you and that he was cruel to you when you were a child."

"Old news," Backstrom said as he reached for his beer and took a long pull on it.

"And that you hate him."

Everett swallowed and looked him as if this were plainly obvious to anyone over the age of three. "I do."

"Did he ever do anything nice for you?" Valentine asked.

Backstrom looked thoughtful. "Once on one of my birthdays, he got me a pair of cowboy boots…"

Greg smiled. "That sounds pretty nice."

"Which he had filled with cow pies."

Greg made a disgusted face. "Ugh! That's not nice."

Backstrom smirked at the thought of what had happened. "He thought it was pretty funny."

"Do you think he blamed you for your mother's death?" Greg said sounding like a psychologist.

Everett decided to play along. "I think he never wanted me to be born. He takes special pride in humiliating me and reminding me just what I did to come into this world."

"Well, you're not alone anymore in the world," Greg replied firmly.

"Wow, that's a big relief," he said sarcastically as only Everett Backstrom could.

Greg walked over and put his hand on Everett's shoulder. "I'm serious. If he ever bothers you again, I'll be there to back you up."

He raised his beer bottle to him in a mock salute. "Be still my beating heart. My hero," he said derisively.

Greg gave him a pained look. "Make jokes if you want, but he'd better not lay another hand on you or threaten you. You're family."

Everett's smirk faded. "You are serious, aren't you?"

Greg nodded, his face stoic. "I'm the son of Blue Backstrom and the half-brother of Everett Backstrom. I can't get any more serious than that."

The Special Crimes Unit Head picked up his beer and took a long pull on it and then looked over at Gregory Valentine. "Thanks," he said as he looked at his half-brother with genuine appreciation.

 ***x*x*x*x*x***

 **Nicole stood** in the parking garage, waiting by the elevator. If anyone saw her, it would look like she was waiting for the elevator. If anyone, besides Steven, stopped on her floor, she would get in, mumble something about getting old and forgetful, and punch the button for either one floor above or one floor below this level.

Part of her, the undying romantic, wanted to believe Steven-that there was a perfectly logical explanation for what happened, even her being assigned to the SCU, which really wasn't that bad. It was more the way her boss, Evan Scone had humiliated her that had really hurt her. But the rational, more cynical side of her told her it was more likely that ADA Kines was going to threaten her—warn her, off the record, of course, that if she tried to tie his buddy to Hill and Davis' deaths, well, that would be detrimental to what was left of her career.

As Gravely checked her watch for the fourth time since she had arrived, the elevator doors opened and out stepped Assistant District Attorney Steven Kines, he had his raincoat on, but it wasn't buttoned up. Nicole's eyes met his. He smiled briefly at her. "Nicole, I'm really glad you came." He said, hope seeming to fill his voice.

It was cruel, but Nicole knew she had to quash that hope. "You've got ten minutes, Steven, and then I'm headed back to my office," she said bravely, trying to put hard steel in her voice.

Steven nodded, accepting that things between them were different now. "Okay, let's walk around like we're headed for your car, I don't want to stand in one place for too long."

More secret squirrel stuff…what the heck was going on that had Steven…ADA Kines…so spooked?

"Fine," she finally said, walking out of the elevator lobby toward the right hand side of the garage. "Let's head this way."

Steven quickly followed. "It's good to see you again," he said when he caught up with her.

 _He isn't really going to try that, is he? "_ We've got nine minutes and fifty-three seconds, Mr. Kines. I suggest we get down to business," Nicole said as she continued her brisk pace. She had her keys out as if she was headed to her car.

Steven, who had his keys in hand as well, frowned and strode to catch up with her, "All right, then, Detective Gravely. You want the truth, here it is."

Nicole glanced at him as they continued walking.

"Your 25th John is in law enforcement-"

She glanced at him with a mildly irritated look. "So? You've taken down corrupt officers and politicians before-"

But he stopped her before she could continue. "Not like this one-and he has friends-the right kind of friends, and he is well connected."

When he said that, Nicole almost stopped as she looked at him. "How well connected?" she asked bluntly.

Steven seemed to peer around as if looking to see if anyone was listening. "So well connected that he could have gotten you fired—fired and brought up on charges. So I made a deal with him. I told him that I would take care of it—that you wouldn't be a concern anymore," Steven said as he continued his brisk pace, causing Nicole to have to speed up to catch up to him.

 _Ohmigod! He wasn't trying to ruin me, he was trying to protect me!_ She immediately swore to take back every mean and vile thing she had thought or said about him since she ended up in Everett Backstrom's unit. Somehow Steven knew that Backstrom could somehow protect her from this person. She touched him on the shoulder to slow him down. "My 24 convictions-"

He stopped and looked at her. "It was either that, or have you face corruption charges, multiple felonies, solicitation…you would have been disgraced and financially ruined." There it was, that was the real reason behind her getting booted from Vice.

"But I was doing good work, you know I was!" she said plaintively as he continued to walk, she started off at a trot to catch up with him.

Steven began looking around again as if searching for something other than his car. "I do, that's what brought you to my attention in the first place…" He gave her that quick boyish smile that had melted her heart in the first place. "but you snared the wrong person, wrong place, wrong time. He's powerful and very vindictive," he warned.

 _Oh God, it was someone high up in the police administration!_ "How powerful?" she asked. It was more like she demanded, but still in a questioning manner.

Steven gave her a furtive look. "I've said enough-"

But the Special Crimes Unit Detective Sergeant wanted to know more. "Steven,"

It was evident that Steven Kines had said all he was going to on the subject. "Nicole-"

Assistant District Attorney Steven Kines never got to finish whatever admonishment he was going to give her. The crack of a high powered rifle made Nicole Gravely flinch. In slow motion, she saw Steven Kines eyes' flare as he grabbed his abdomen, grunting and doubling over. Nicole drew her service weapon, flipping it off safety, and ducking behind a nearby car. From there she did a scan of the area. Nothing.

She looked down to her left and saw a growing puddle of blood around Assistant District Attorney Kines, whose face was now ashen. "Steven!" she cried as in one fluid motion she pulled out her cell phone and put it to her ear while keeping her weapon trained and ready for any possible threat that might reveal itself.

'Portland Bureau of Police, 911, what is your emergency?'  
 **  
*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Everett Backstrom** was about to get up from his chair and go to bed. Valentine had left an hour ago, at Everett's urging, so he knew he wouldn't be back until much later.

He hadn't gone to the crime scene, even though Gravely was involved. All he knew was that Skeller was going to be there and he couldn't deal with that tonight. Besides this was Homicide's turf anyway and Gravely was a big girl. She didn't need him holding her hand. She'd report to him in good time.

That's when he heard a knock on the door. He knew that Valentine would be out until the wee hours, well, more wee, then they are now, so it couldn't be him. Grumbling, he got up and walked to the door.

"Who is it?" he asked looking through the peephole-there he could see the distorted image of Nicole Gravely wearing her khaki raincoat and standing on his doorstep.

"It's Gravely. Can I come in, Lieutenant?"

Backstrom opened the door. A late evening/early morning fog was starting to creep in, mixing with the light drizzle that was forming haloes around nearby streetlamps. "What are you doing here at this hour?" He noted, but did not say anything about her hair being out of its bun and matted down by the drizzle – usually Gravely carried an umbrella with her, but tonight she didn't seem to care that the incessant Portland rain made her hair a bedraggled mess.

She gave him a sour look. "I just finished that report on the Jenson murder you wanted done before tomorrow afternoon," she thrust it toward him. "Here, sign this."

Everett took the neatly printed report and looked at it. Not bad for someone who had been grilled by Skeller for the past couple of hours. "I need a pen, c'mon on inside."

Nicole gave him an irritated look. "I've got a pen you know," she called out to his retreating back. She stood there for a moment in the open doorway before giving up and marching in. "Oh for the love of-"

When she got inside the boathouse, she saw that the Head of the SCU had shoved a pile of papers aside on a table in the lower level of the room and was scribbling his name on the report.

As she came down the stairs, he looked up at her. "Done," he announced with smirk and handed it back to her.

She took it and glanced at it briefly. Why had she even bothered getting his signature? She could always forge it-"Thank you, Lieutenant," she said curtly. "Good night," as she started to turn to leave, she heard him sigh.

"You want a beer?"

She closed her eyes, willing herself not to roll them. Everett Backstrom showing sympathy? Probably not, most likely he wanted to grill her about the shooting as well. Fine. She opened her eyes and steeled herself for the coming conversation. She turned back toward him. "It's late," she said brusquely trying to get him to back off. They could do this in the morning. Besides, he was supposed to be on the wagon.

Backstrom didn't know where this hostility was coming from. Maybe it was because she had been at the station all evening writing up this report and that was after having to listen Tom Skeller berate her about what she knew about the shooting. Maybe that even explained why she had let herself end up looking like a drowned rat. "C'mon, one beer won't kill you," he said glibly, trying to get her to smile.

It fell flat as she stared hard at him for a long moment.

Now it was her turn to sigh. Whatever. "Fine," she grumbled as she turned and walked back over to the two chairs where Backstrom and Valentine usually sat.

Everett walked over the refrigerator and opening it, pulled out another two beers, putting his now empty one on the counter next to the refrigerator.

He walked back over to where she was standing and handed it to her. "Here, c'mon over and take a load off, you look beat," he didn't mention the fact she also looked like she had been standing out in the rain for few hours. Maybe the less said about that, the better. He noticed she hadn't taken off her raincoat either.

She sighed again as they both sat heavily down in their chairs. God, why couldn't he just let her go home?

As the Detective Lieutenant twisted the cap off his new beer letting it clatter on the floor, he heard hers hit the floor as well. That wasn't something he expected. He looked over at her.

She gave him a smirk. "What? I thought when in Rome," She took a long pull her beer. He continued looking at her for a moment before shrugging and taking a pull on his own beer.

They both sat silently drinking for a few minutes. Nicole was drinking hers a lot faster than he was his.

"My life sucks," she said finally and punctuated the comment with a loud belch.

"Oh come on, you're life doesn't suck, you work for me, don't you?" he said trying to cheer her up. This had more to do something other than just late shift blues and being questioned by Skeller. Did it really bother her that much that ADA Kines had been shot?

"Yeah, well that's part of the problem right there," she grumbled as she took another long drink.

She began to feel lightheaded. She didn't care. Frankly, my dear, right now, she didn't care about anything right now.

"Okay, what's got your panties in a wad this late at night?" he said giving her a scowl, trying shake her out of this. He really didn't like her airing her dislike for this job. After all, it was a pretty good job.

"Rethinking my life choices," she said glumly. Boy, this beer was hitting her harder than she thought if she said that out loud. But then again, what did she care who heard her or what she really thought?

This was more serious than he thought. "Okay Gravely, what's going on? Something's bothering you?" Other than your former boyfriend being shot and having to listen to Tom Skeller for half an evening….

She took another drink. "Nothing, everything," she said dully, staring at her bottle. Wow, she was really started to feel woozy, maybe she shouldn't have agreed to this after all.

He pulled his chair around to face her. "Okay, let's try this another way. What is bothering you tonight, specifically?"

"What Steven told me earlier tonight," she said in a monotone voice. Then she began making popping noises with her mouth, making it obvious to Everett that she was definitely feeling the effects of her beer.

 _One beer, I gave her one lousy beer…how could she get so drunk so fast?_

"Steven…as in ADA Steven Kines?" Of course it was Steven Kines she was talking about, but he wanted to hear that from her. It was so he could have more of clue as to what was going on in the mind of Nicole Gravely at this moment. Then it dawned on him, she was still in love with him!

She nodded. "One in the same," she said in a sing-song voice and then giggled. She saw his concerned look and covered her mouth, "Sorry, cheap drunk," she mumbled.

He ignored that. "What'd he tell you?" the PPB Detective Lieutenant asked trying to get more out of her.

"He told me that, Lieutenant Scone, my old boss, told him, to reveal to the 25th John that I was Vice. And that the John was a friend of the late Michael Hill," Nicole said with a drunken flourish and then she took another pull on her now three-fourths empty bottle.

Now this was all starting to make sense. "Our dead victim?"

"Uh huh," she belched again. "Sorry," she said sheepishly as she put the now empty bottle down.

"Did he think the 25th John had anything to do with Hill's death?"

She around looked blearily. This place wasn't half bad, Valentine had done a good job cleaning up this place, but it still needed a woman's touch. She picked up her bottle and stared blearily at it. "Maybe, but before they loaded him in the ambulance, he told me that Amy Davis was involved with my John as well as Michael Hill."

Where had her beer gone?

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

**You've Got to be Kidding Me! Chapter 3**

 **A/N: Sorry for delay folks - Enjoy!**

 **Everett Backstrom** looked up tiredly from his notepad as Niedermayer walked into the squad room, a triumphant look on his face and a file in his hand. Backstrom had still not recovered from his late night beer-fest with Nicole Gravely– whom he had ended up sending home in a taxi.

"DNA analysis of the saliva recovered on the drinking glass has been completed," the SCU Forensic Specialist informed them.

Nicole's face lit up. Somehow despite being stewed out of her gourd last night, she seemed right on the ball this morning. "So, we've got a DNA profile?"

Peter nodded his head, sitting down. "Yes. A complete, female DNA profile. But, no match in CODIS."

"Well, she almost certainly has killed before," Everett reminded them. "That's something, I guess."

"Yes", Peter agreed, starting up his computer. "Which is why I will now run the DNA profile through ViCAP better known as the unsolved cases database. If she committed another crime and left DNA evidence at that crime scene... that could be a useful lead. Even if she committed a crime in a different state, because all the unsolved case databases are now linked."

Everett groaned. "Yeah. Great, another unsolved murder. Or another unsolved crime."

"Well, a fresh pair of eyes on the case could be as useful as on the actual evidence," Peter said, smiling.

Everett stood up and walked over to the wire mesh board, taking another look at the crime scene photographs plastered on it.

"Since our killer is almost certainly a woman, that brings us a whole new pool of suspects," he pondered. "Maybe one of the..." He stopped, taking a concerned look at Nicole before continuing. "'Ladies of the night…' …She was jealous of Amy. Maybe she learned of Amy's relationship with Michael and decided to burglarize the place, but she didn't plan it well and she walked in on them. Or maybe it was just a random crime, committed by a random, homicidal woman. Completely unrelated to her, er, um, work."

"You mean her working as hooker," Peter said bluntly.

"Yeah, right," Everett said a little vaguely while shooting Gravely an apologetic look.

She seemed unfazed by Neidermayer's words about her dead…acquaintance. "Still doesn't rule out the 25th John," Nicole said in a firm voice. "He could have hired someone."

"What kind of a hit man... well, hit-woman, would use a crowbar, a knife, and an electrical cable found on the scene, and take the time to sexually assault a female victim?" Nadia wondered aloud.

"A sick person who wants to make the murders to look like a burglary gone wrong, a random act of violence," Nicole said grimly.

Everett sighed. "Let's see…. I am …an egomaniac and a misogynist. I've got a problem with Amy, maybe her boyfriend too. So I hire a woman to murder them. A woman dumb enough to drink at the crime scene and leave her DNA..." He groaned, as Nicole rolled her eyes. "Sorry, I can't finish that thought."

"Ah-hah!" Peter exclaimed, staring at the computer screen. A buzzing sound was heard.

Nicole rushed over to his desk. Everett followed her, much less enthusiastic. "Is there a match?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look at the screen.

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed.

Then another buzz sounded.

"And another," Peter said in a surprised but still excited voice.

Once again, the buzzer sounded.

"And another!"

And five more times the buzzing sound bite played.

"And another, and another, and another, and another, and another...," Peter noted with his eyes wide in surprise.

"At least eight unsolved murders in eight different states," Nicole read, feeling herself involuntarily shiver. "Dating back to 2012."

"Great," Everett commented, strangely unimpressed by this news. All it meant was that definitely dealing with a serial killer, instead of run-of-the miller double murder.

 ***x*x*x*x*x**

 **It took them over two hours** to print out all the case files, make necessary copies, and have forensic techs check the results, just in case. By that time Everett had bought himself a cheeseburger, French fries and a Cola. He walked back into the squad room just as the rest of the team was about to put all the information up on the board and write out a timeline.

Nicole glared at him, her arms crossed over her chest. "Good to know you're following my advice and John's," she said sullenly.

"Take it easy," Everett said. "I got a Cola instead of beer. And I told them to add the lettuce."

Nicole fought the urge to roll her eyes at his comment.

Nadia meanwhile, walked over to the board, pinning the photograph of the first victim to the left, before adding a crime scene photograph right underneath. "April 13th, 2012. Madison, Wisconsin. Amy Stanworth, twenty one, Caucasian, college student, University of Madison-Wisconsin. Found strangled to death in her dorm room, apparently after walking in on a burglar. A female DNA was extracted from skin cells recovered under her fingernails and on her collar."

Another photograph was added, this one featuring a young African American woman. "November 24th, 2012. New York, Brooklyn. Tracy Bellinger, twenty four, African American, a prostitute. Found dead in Hudson River. She had been beaten, sexually assaulted, and stabbed to death. Female DNA profile was extracted from saliva recovered on her breast and skin cells recovered under her fingernails."

Peter was the one to put a third photograph up on the board, followed by the crime scene photograph. "October 28th, 2013. Houston, Texas. Shanna Eggers, seventy eight, African American. Found bludgeoned to death in her home. Signs of breaking and entering, house burglarized. Female DNA profile extracted from skin cells found under her fingernails and saliva recovered on the empty vodka bottle found at the crime scene."

He quickly moved on to the fourth victim. "April 18th, 2014. Miami, Florida. Henry Jenkins, thirty-two, Caucasian, found stabbed to death in his car. His watch and wallet were missing. Female DNA was extracted from skin cells recovered under his fingernails."

Nicole was the one to present the fifth victim. "November 28th, 2014. Los Angeles. Rena Keller, seven years old, Caucasian. She was abducted from her bedroom late at night, and the ransom note was left behind, instructing the parents not to inform the authorities and leave twenty thousand dollars in a hollow tree in a local park, after which they will get further instructions through a phone call. They did like they were asked, but the abductor never returned Rena. Her body was found two days later in a dumpster on the other side of the city. The autopsy report was inconclusive, though no apparent trauma was indicated -except for signs of restraining, and all tox screens came back clean. Rena suffered from asthma and multiple allergies, so it is likely that she went into a seizure while in captivity and died. Female DNA profile was extracted from saliva recovered on a beer bottle found in the backyard."

John sighed before putting the information about the sixth victim on the board. "April 15th, 2015. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Stefan Marquez, twenty eight, Hispanic. A bouncer, shot to death in front of the nightclub where he worked, after the closing time. The killer shot him in the groin and the head with a .45 caliber gun." Everyone looked up when they heard that but then John added "Never recovered, no match in IBIS. Female DNA was extracted from skin cells recovered on shell casings found at the scene. That night, Stephen kicked out a female customer who was drunk and had been sexually harassing another female customer. But nobody knew who that woman was. She paid in cash and the bar had no security cameras."

Everett grimaced, putting a photograph of a young brown-haired boy on the wire mesh surface. "April 17th, 2016. Philadelphia. Joe Denver, thirteen years old, Caucasian. Found stabbed to death in his house, apparently after coming home from school early and walking in on a burglar. Forensics determined the murder weapon was most likely a letter opener, but it was never found. Female DNA profile was extracted from skin cells recovered inside a bloody glove found near the crime scene. DNA profile extracted from the blood found on the glove matched to the victim, Joe Denver."

As Everett finished his summation of the case, he paged back and forth in the folder. "Hey, wait a minute. Something screwy is going on here."

Peter walked over and looked at the papers he was holding. "He's right, there are two others that weren't mentioned as being part of the case file," Peter announced.

John and Nicole came over to Peter and peered at the file. They were followed by the rest of the team.

"It appears one was accidentally stapled to the report on Joe Denver," John observed.

"Sloppy work by Creepy Eddie and his team of wunderkinds," Everett declared in an irritated tone. "For the guff he gives us, I'm going to give him some the next time I see him."

Nicole took the now unstapled papers and looked at them. "Someone got in a hurry, never noticing that this was a totally different report on yet another murder."

Peter nodded. "And there was some kind of residue on this victim's report that caused the second report to stick to it."

"Hard to believe that none of the techs noticed this when putting this together."

"It happens," John replied giving a world-weary sigh as if he experienced this before (and probably had).

Everett walked over to the board and looked the gallery of victims they had so far. "So now we know she didn't take any 'vacations' during the period from April 2016 to now. Who are they?"

Moto took the papers from Nicole and began reading, "November 2, 2016. Las Vegas. Chris Liu, computer technician for the Golden Sands Casino, Asian American, twenty-five. Mr. Liu was found murdered late at night, around midnight, in an alleyway near his apartment after returning home from work. Stabbed at least ten times on his face, chest, and arms…and his throat was slit. The weapon was determined to be a switchblade." This statement sent a current through the room. They actually had a weapon and if the prints could be matched to the evidence in the other cases, they might have a real chance at getting this killer—"but the actual weapon itself was never found." Everyone sighed heavily at that—so much for that theory.

"Anything taken from Mr. Liu?" Nadia asked. They had all been thinking it, but Nadia was the first to say it.

"His watch, wallet and laptop, which he carried with him everywhere, according to people who knew him. Female DNA was extracted from the skin underneath his fingernails."

"So he fought with the attacker…" Everett said distractedly as more of statement than a question.

"You mean as opposed to just standing there and letting her stab him to death?" Nicole said a little too sharply.

Everyone in the room looked at Nicole and Everett who were staring at each other. "Right," Everett said slowly keeping his eyes on her. "Getting back to the case, Liu fought with his attacker…"

Moto nodded. "Yeah, the injuries on his arms were definitely defensive. LVPD CSI recovered some chewing gum on the ground next to the victim. The DNA profile from the gum and saliva residue matched the female skin found under Mr. Liu's nails. LVPD checked the local pawnshops and web to see if the laptop was put up for sale, but it hasn't appeared yet."

Moto took the only photo of Mr. Liu that was in with the papers, a photo taken at the crime scene, and tacked it up on the board with the other victims.

The Detective Lieutenant nodded absently. John and the others could see he was trying to relive the last few moments of their newest victim. "What about the other one?"

Peter took those papers and began reading. "They were stuck to the back of the report on Mr. Liu." He cleared his throat and began reading again. "March 27th 2017. Las Vegas. Michelle Gray, Caucasian, thirty-five, single mother. She worked as a city clerk. She was reported missing by her teenage daughter, Autumn Gray. Ms. Gray failed to return home after going out the night before. The daughter remembered that her mother went alone to the Golden Sands casino which is only a few miles away from their home.

"The Golden Sands again. First Liu and now Ms. Gray, maybe our killer worked there," Nicole said thinking out loud.

While the others thought about that possibility, Peter continued reading.

"Detectives from Missing Persons talked to several employees and regular customers who remembered that she was in the casino that night from eight to ten p.m. and left after winning three thousand dollars at a blackjack table. They examined footage from the security cameras and found Ms. Gray was gambling at that table. While she was playing, she was approached by an unknown woman."

Everett suddenly perked up. "Could they tell anything about this woman?"

"She obviously knew where the security cameras were and kept her face from being directly photographed. Interviews with customers and employees about the woman who remembered her were inconsistent and vague about an actual description. But the casino's cameras did record Ms. Gray leaving the parking lot being followed by a dark colored Ford Escape, Nevada tags 197-OBN."

This was more than they had had up to this point. Now they had a vehicle to go with the killer.

"They conducted a search and traced her cell phone's GPS signal which hadn't been turned off. They found her body in a ditch along the side of road in a subdivision that was being built about two miles from her home. Her car was found at a convenience store about a mile from her home. The store manager said his night clerk remembered a woman dropping the car off saying she would return for it later."

"Did he describe the woman?" John asked, it was evident that he thought they finally had a solid lead on the killer.

Peter dashed those hopes. "Average height, average build, but he didn't remember anything else about her. Also Forensics found the car had been wiped clean of prints, both inside and out. And the security cameras were ancient and actually not working at the time the car was dropped off."

Everett sighed. "That's discouraging. What about the car, did they find anything there?"

Peter began reading again. "There was some recent damage to back bumper and traces of blue car paint, specifically Starlight Blue. This type of paint was found to be used on 2016 Ford Escapes. The detectives figured the killer followed her until they reached the subdivision and once there, bumped into her at an intersection, forcing her to stop and check for damage and exchange insurance. The killer then produced a pistol, walked her over to the ditch, robbed her, and then shot her in the back of the head, execution style. The killer took her blackjack winnings and a watch. "

The Portland Bureau of Police Detective Lieutenant had a puzzled look on his face. "Are they sure about the order of things? Walked her over to the ditch, robbed her, and then shot her?"

Peter flipped the papers back and forth, "That's what they state here."

John looked at Everett. "What are you thinking?"

Backstrom shook his head. "Robbing her after killing her seems to be more of the modus operandi of this killer than the other way around."

Nicole nodded, "I agree. In all the previous killings, she stole after she killed, like it was an afterthought or a way to try to cover up what really happened."

"Make it look like a run of the mill robbery gone bad rather than a planned killing," Moto added.

Everett nodded. "Exactly. What was she shot with?"

Peter continued reading. ".44 Magnum. No match in IBIS but they did find female skin cells on a recovered shell casing that matched our female's DNA profile. The area around the shooting had been the site of recent house construction, so there was lots of broken ground and multiple heavy vehicle tracks all around. No usable footprints or small vehicle tracks found."

"Getting back to the car," Everett said hurriedly. He thought they were onto something. They all did.

"Wait a minute, ah yes, here it is." They all focused on Peter. His voice fell. "The license plates on the Escape turned out to be stolen and the car itself was stolen during a rash of thefts of all types of Fords that happened in the late winter."

"How recently were the plates stolen?" Moto asked trying to revive hope.

"Sometime around the first of the year."

While the others were disheartened, Backstrom was not. He saw this as a potential avenue to a clue. "So Fords of all types were stolen, it looks like our killer was looking for something specific, a car that would blend in, not attract too much attention."

"Well, LVPD didn't find anything conclusive about the plates or any evidence about who might have stolen them, and the thefts of Fords blended in with other car thefts made during that time and while they caught a number of suspects, even with Fords in their possession, none of them could be tied to Ms. Gray's killing."

The Detective Lieutenant still held onto hope. "And the killer's Ford?"

Peter's voice was almost monotone. "Found twenty miles from the crime scene in an abandoned field a few days later. It had been set on fire and no forensic evidence remained. LVFD and LVPD CSI determined the Escape had been doused with an accelerant, most likely gasoline, and set on fire—possibly with matches but it was impossible to tell."

"Well, so much for tying the fire to casino matchbooks," Nadia said wearily.

"Which in turn, might have lead us to our killer," Nicole added glumly.

"So another dead end," Moto said disgustedly.

"And two more deaths," John said finishing their thoughts. At first they thought these two cases might give them some solid leads but they turned out to like the rest of cases. A non-descript female killer who uses burglaries and other acts of violence to hide her planned killings.

Peter took the crime scene photo of Ms. Gray and added it to the board.

They all stepped back and took a good look at the wire mesh board plastered with photos.

"So, this woman has been murdering people over the last five years," Everett said.

"Yeah," Moto said, observing the board. "All over the USA. Men, women, children, Caucasian, African American, Hispanic, young, old..."

Nicole was the first to say it. "If this really is a serial killer murdering people all over the country, we should inform the FBI," she pointed out.

Everett made a face when he heard that. "We will," he said dismissively. "Eventually. When we figure out the best strategy to keep them from taking over the entire investigation and pushing us aside. Besides thanks to you saying it, we now know we are focusing our efforts on finding a serial killer,"

"I don't know," Nicole said sounding a note of caution about getting carried away. "There are a lot of things that don't fit."

"For example?" Everett asked, taking a bite of his cheeseburger.

"Well, most serial killers have a type," Nicole pointed out. "This one is all over the map. Literally."

"There are exceptions," Everett said in a confident tone.

"Such as?" Nicole asked again, somewhat pointedly, he thought.

Everett took a furious sip of Cola. "Don't nitpick! There are always exceptions."  
 **  
*x*x*x*x*x**

 **"…and this file states** that the first murder back in 2012 has been solved," John pointed out. "The case is officially closed."

"So why is it included in the unsolved cases database?" Nadia asked.

It was a good question.

"Let's see if I can find out." He sat down at his desk and started re-reading the Madison, Wisconsin case. "A local man named John 'Jon-Jon' Blake was eventually arrested for the murder of Amy Stanworth. He lived in the area, he had prior convictions for burglary. A cigarette butt containing his DNA was found in the victim's backyard, and the items stolen from victim's home were found hidden in his van. All the evidence pointed to him working alone."

"Well, wrongful convictions do happen," Everett said.

Peter frowned, a file in his hands. "Wait, I think I see how this one might have been tossed in with the others... there is a note attached to every single one of these files," he noticed. "A warning flag from the Madison Police Department... It states that the female DNA found on the crime scenes is a result of swabs being contaminated, and should be disregarded."

Everett frowned. "Swabs?"

"Yes," Peter confirmed, as everyone else, except for Everett, rushed to find that information in their copies of the files. "Cotton swabs used to collect DNA samples."

"The Phantom of Heilbronn!" Nicole exclaimed. Everyone looked up at her, surprised. She began to explain her sudden pronouncement. "In 2009, Interpol linked identical female DNA profile to forty crimes that had taken place in Austria, France and Germany, from 1993 to 2009. It was eventually revealed that there was no serial killer, and that DNA match was a result of swabs being contaminated before being shipped. Although sterile, the swabs were not certified for human DNA collection."  
Everett groaned, shifting in his seat. "How did they come up with that moronic conclusion?" he asked. "The investigators from Wisconsin, I mean."

"According to this file, during the investigation, detectives zeroed in on…," John read from the file. "…all the evidence pointed to one theory: he murdered Amy, and he did it all on his own. Nobody could explain the female DNA found under Amy's fingernails."

"Then they remembered the aforementioned Phantom case," Peter continued. "It was all over the news a few years ago. It was much more recent news in 2012. They did some research and found out that the company, which had produced the cotton swabs that were eventually purchased by their crime lab, was suspected of sanitary violations two times before."

"Was the company investigated?" Nadia asked in an inquisitive voice.

"Yes, but they denied any involvement and there was no conclusive evidence," Nicole read from her file. "And the only way to confirm that theory was to take a DNA sample from every female employee working there, extract a DNA profile and compare it to the one found under Amy Stanworth's fingernails, and nobody was willing to finance such investigation."

Nicole groaned. "Not surprising. Average DNA testing costs seventy dollars, but some people still think it's too much when it comes to analyzing dozens of samples. Not to mention the time and personnel necessary. Approximately, four hundred thousand rape kits have never been processed. Some go back decades."

"Also, they were pretty careless with the records and the paperwork, so there was no way to learn how many crime labs purchased their cotton swabs," Peter added. "Not to mention, nobody knew who contaminated the swabs, and how many swabs were contaminated before being shipped. Still, the word spread around and the company was closed a year later."

"And police flagged that DNA profile and stored it into the unsolved cases database," Nicole concluded. "So anyone coming across that DNA profile during a criminal investigation would know that it is a false lead."

A short silence ensued. Everett snickered, a frown on his face.

"Sorry, not buying it," he said slapping his folder shut.

Nicole frowned at his callous dismissal. "You think that there is an actual serial killer out there and that this DNA profile is an actual lead?"

Everett glared at her. "*Actually*, I do," he said, emphasizing the word "actually".

Peter decided weigh in. Callously ignoring the contamination warnings could backfire. "Contamination does happen, though. Interpol chased such a false lead for years."

But Nicole decided to play devil's advocate. "That doesn't mean that is the case here. How come those contaminated swabs are still out there, if the company has been closed for four years?"

"Some swabs can stay in the lab for years before being used," Peter offered.

"And maybe the woman who contaminated the samples found a job in another factory, and she still hasn't learned her lesson," Moto suggested.

"Still reaching, huh?" Everett snickered, standing up with his folder in hand. "And why just murders? How come none of those contaminated swabs have been used during a rape, or burglary, or arson investigation? This DNA profile has only been recovered at the murder scenes we're looking at."

"Maybe they recovered it at other crime scenes too, but never bothered to run it through the unsolved cases database," John suggested.

"Still, it seems odd that, apparently, only one swab was contaminated," Nadia said.

Moto nodded. "Forensics took swab samples of blood... no evidence of contamination there. That DNA profile was only recovered on the drinking glass."

"To be fair, not all DNA testing has been completed yet," John said.

"I still think we should be looking into the prostitution angle," Nicole maintained. "And... 25th John. I know that something is off. The truth must be there."

"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

They all turned in the direction of that booming voice, taken aback. A young blonde dressed in a dark brown sports jacket, tan blouse and dark brown slacks walked into the workroom.

"Sorry", the woman said dryly with wry smile. "I have a thing for dramatic entry, pun intended. Emily Baker, FBI," she introduced herself, flashing her badge to everyone.

Everett sighed and shook his head. "I knew it. This is about my cigars, isn't it?" His face suddenly brightened up. "Or about my car..."  
Emily frowned not sure what this Detective was talking about. "No and no. I have... been informed that there's been a DNA match. Your crime lab matched the DNA profile recovered in your double homicide case with ten other unsolved murders-well, ten murders, nine of them officially unsolved-in eight different states, dating back to 2012."

"Yes, but the reports state-", John started.

"Disregard them," Emily said, in a matter of fact manner to him. He was cute, but he had to get these people thinking straight.

"That seems to be an official conclusion," Peter pointed out. "Swab contamination."

"Yeah, but I think that's bull," Emily said calmly to the SCU Forensic Specialist.

Everett smiled, looking at Emily before turning to face Nicole. "You see? That's the spirit!"

Nicole fought the urge to roll her eyes. "What makes you think that?" she asked Emily, trying to stay calm. She didn't like this FBI person swooping in on *their* case, after all didn't Everett warn them the FBI would try to do this?

"Check the dates," Emily said, pointing at the board. "Almost all ten murders have been committed in either April or November."

Peter glanced at the board, then at some of his case files and then back at the board again. "She's right," he noted in an awed voice as he and Nadia looked closely at each case folder.

"No offense, but if nobody else believes that there is a serial killer out there, how are you allowed to be here?" Nadia asked when she turned back toward Emily.

"Well, even though he doesn't like me... my approach, that is,…my boss…let's just say he's willing to tolerate... my approach, as long as I don't go too far," the FBI Agent explained with a smirk.

"Sounds familiar," Nicole whispered to John who managed to keep a straight face.

FBI Agent Baker was on a roll. "Every time another DNA match is found, I go to that state and city and assist local detectives with the investigation. Technically, this is my time off. Haven't taken a sick day in years. For purposes other than this one, I mean. And I'm cute, physically. So I can get away with it," she said giving Everett a wink.

Everett gave her a smirk back "I like your spunk."

Nicole fought the urge to hiss out a disgusted sigh. Special Agent Baker was quickly getting on her last nerve with this act.

"How did you even know so soon about the murders and how they might be tied to your serial killer?" John asked, probing just how much she might know and how she might be able to help.

Emily Baker was ready for this question. She had to win them over, starting with this big tall guy. "The FBI... monitors the unsolved case database, since the databases from all states have been compiled together. As soon as a DNA match is found, related to two or more capital crimes in two different states, our techs know. They then forward the information to the agents, if it seems urgent. I have an agreement with one of the techs. I actually tried to prove my theory. I had the evidence swabbed again, with positively sterile swabs, and had the DNA analyzed again. I paid for it myself. The same DNA profile was recovered. But, since those pieces of evidence originally came in contact with, allegedly, contaminated swabs, nobody considered that conclusive evidence."

"Is that all?" Nicole asked skeptically. "The dates?" **  
**  
Emily Baker shook her head but could see that little Miss Prim was going to be a problem. "No. Take a look at the crime scene photographs. You will see that, in every case where the murder took place indoors, all the windows were left open. I haven't had the time to learn much about the last two, but if the victims were murdered indoors, I'd bet all the windows were opened once you got there." She took another look at the board, noting the last crime scene photograph in the line. She smirked. "I guess I was right."

"That's her signature," Emily explained to them, as Everett sat back down at his desk, taking another bite of his cheeseburger. "Still not sure what it really means, but some Eastern religions state that all windows must be opened in the house where someone has died, so his or her soul could find a way to Heaven. How considerate of her, right? Anyway, she's been killing people since 2012. I've been chasing her since 2014. This is the first time she murdered two victims on the same night, on the same location. She may be growing careless. We may have a pretty good chance of catching her. Together."

"Providing that we think this is a lead worth pursuing," John added, he still wasn't sure about her.

Emily held up her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, this isn't an official FBI case. If you ask me to leave and I refuse, that would be considered harassment." She turned to face Everett and smiled, approaching his desk. "But I hope you won't do that. I think I'd make a really useful asset." She sat at the edge of the desk, not breaking eye contact, a smirk on her face. "So. What do you think, Lieutenant Backstrom?" she mused.

"Technically, I'm in charge of the case," John stated to the Agent.

Emily turned to face him, a smirk still on her face. "And, technically, this isn't an FBI case," she noted before turning back towards Everett. "So. What is it gonna be?" she asked, before taking two of his French fries and biting into them.

Nicole cringed. "I can't watch this," she whispered, looking away as Emily was making an obvious sexual advance on her boss.

Everett turned to face John. "What do you think, John? We could always split up. Work on more than one theory, pool of suspects, at the same time."

John sighed, remaining silent for a moment. "There may be a prolific serial killer on the loose. We have wasted money and resources on way less than that."

Nicole took a deep breath, trying to suppress another wince. She turned to face Emily. "So... if this female serial killer is so elusive... where do you suggest we start?"

 ***x*x*x*x*x*x  
** **  
They had** been looking at the ten cases all afternoon and into the evening, hoping to find some piece of forensic evidence that someone somewhere had overlooked.

No such luck.

"Of course, it's doubtful anyone will take my theory seriously, with a cynical sex addict and a recovering alcoholic working the case."

Everett tried to hide his embarrassment with his calm matter-of-fact voice. "Well, at least I can say I've been called worse."

Emily was obviously somewhat surprised and pleased by his admission. "Actually, I was talking about myself."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **It was** fast approaching late evening, and Emily could sense that Nicole Gravely's unease with her was growing. Strangely enough, Emily seemed to delight in the Special Crimes Unit Detective Sergeant's discomfort with her.

"I did some work a few years ago..." Nicole started.

"Fascinating," Emily replied, smirking. She quickly realized her flippant comment was the wrong thing to say.

Nicole glared at her, but remained professional. "Undercover work," she elaborated.

"Sorry, tell me more," Emily replied, sounding genuinely interested.

"It is a pretty complicated story..." Nicole said, shifting in her seat, clearly she was uncomfortable talking about this. "I was in "Vice". It had a lot to do with, um... prostitution... and escorts..."

"It's all right, we're all friends here. Go on," Emily said, winking at her. Nicole flinched, but decided not to elaborate on her actions.

"I... the important part is, I encountered a certain individual. A very powerful person." Nicole sighed, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. "And, as it turned out, very anonymous person," she admitted quietly, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"You don't know his name?" Emily questioned. She didn't say it, but she found this part hard to believe. Harder to believe than this little Miss Prim ever being able to pull off being a prostitute.

"I... we just called him the "25th John"," Nicole explained, trying to sound calm, and convincing. "He is the one who put an end to my undercover operation. I'm not sure how, but he managed to sabotage it. I got in his way and he successfully put an end to it."

"And?" Emily probed, still not sure what any of that had to do with the serial killer case.

"You know that Amy Davis used to work as an escort, right?" Nicole asked.

"Yeah, I've been reading the latest case file" Emily confirmed, while nodding her head.

"Well, shortly before you showed up, I received a tip that Amy Davis used to work for the 25th John."

"For him?" Wow, talk about the odd things that you come across on a case. Emily could tell that Detective Sergeant Gravely was really nervous and ill-at-ease talking about this. Well, it might lead to something useful.

"Yeah, he was one of her, well, johns. And I also learned that the 25th John also has ties in law enforcement."

"But you still don't know his name, or anything else?" Emily asked, frowning. Talk about a riddle wrapped in an enigma.

Nicole sighed, looking away for a moment. Emily could tell this was extremely hard for her. Or at least it seemed that way. "No, my, um, informant got shot soon after informing me. He... he works as an ADA. That is a pretty reliable source, right?" She seemed to be seeking confirmation from her on this idea. Emily decided what the hell. This might lead to something that could help them.

"Depends on the ADA", Emily replied trying not to sound too brusque. "I hope he recovers soon," she added.

"Thank you," Nicole replied, thankful for the concerns, and hoping she was finally getting somewhere with FBI agent Baker. Emboldened by what seemed like support, she continued, her voice sounding a little more confident. "We've been checking Amy Davis' and Michael Hill's phone records and emails, trying to find a possible info on the 25th John. Nothing so far. But, what I've been trying to say is... that is a lead, right? I mean, the DNA links all the cases to the serial killer you are looking for, but the 25th John could still be involved somehow, right? Working with her? Maybe Amy Davis had something on him, threatened to expose him, so he teamed up with another criminal, who might have already picked Amy and her boyfriend as targets beforehand... I think it is worth looking into." Nicole paused. Emily could tell she wanted validation for her theory. Unfortunately this was…just a little too out there. Emily decided tough love was the best way to handle this conspiracy theory before it got blown all out of proportion with respect to the case.

Emily shook her head. "You want a harpoon?" Moto and Nadia looked over at Emily with surprised looks because of what sounded like she was making fun of Nicole.

Nicole was also totally floored by her comment. "A harpoon? For what?"

"For that Moby Dick you're going after." Seeing that little Miss Prim was shattered by her off the cuff remark, she decided to dial it back, just a little. "Look, based on what you've told me I can understand why you think your 25th John guy might be involved in this latest killing, but do you really think your man would survive being involved with a serial killer?" C'mon kid, use some logic…

"There have been stranger cases," Nicole said defensively. She felt her face growing hot.

Crap. Time to cut bait on this one. "True, but not as strange as that one," Emily said dismissively.

When she saw the SCU Detective Sergeant's eyes narrow in anger, Emily quickly went into damage control mode _._ "Okay, sorry, that was a little harsh. Let's agree to keep this professional. The two of us obviously have different theories about this case…"

Nicole wasn't expecting an admission like that. Okay, she could be diplomatic too. "True."

Emily was pleased that she had accepted her olive branch. "And, I respect that…"

Nicole gave her a 'damn right' look "Good!" she said nodding, as she fell into the agent's trap.

Emily smiled at her while delivering the sucker punch "...but truthfully, your theory sucks, and *we are* looking for a serial killer."

First détente and now a punch to the gut. The words were out of Gravely's mouth before she could stop them. "What is wrong with you?"

Emily could have handled that comment a number of ways that would have embarrassed Nicole but instead, she shrugged. "Who knows? I was a bottle baby. Tequila bottle, according to my mom."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Emily Baker** walked around the room summarizing her thoughts on who they were looking for. "I'd bet that if we were to research into her childhood, we'd find all three signs of a future serial killer: bed wetting, arson setting, and cruelty to animals. Also, if she tried to poison her family with cyanide or arsenic, that may also be a reason for concern."

Nicole hated it when anyone tried to give a recipe for a killer of any kind. Especially this woman. "No offense, but how does that help us find her? We don't have a suspect, and it's not like we can access social services records or medical records. Besides, it takes more than three ingredients to make a serial killer. You're not taking into account whether or not her parents showed a pattern of deviant or abusive behavior, genetic defects, biological defects, biochemical imbalances, or simply the fact that she just might be a broken toy. There is a whole raft of things that make up a serial killer and no two people who experience the same conditions become one. One does and one doesn't. There is no set recipe for a serial killer, plain and simple."

Emily was unfazed by her sharp rebuttal. "Through a different perspective. New point of view."

No one in the bull pen though said anything in response to her arcane comment. Just blank stares. It was like watching a verbal tennis match between Gravely and Baker.

Emily now became completely serious. "You know. You're in a mall, or at a bar, minding your own business, when a random woman approaches you and tells you, "Just so you know, I'd wet my bed until I was fourteen, I tortured animals when I was in fifth grade, and I also tried to burn my family home down." On a normal day, you'd be like: "OK, weirdo have a nice life," but, if you are actively pursuing a serial killer, you may figure to look into that person, and maybe she turns out to be a person you're looking for."

Nicole quickly countered this. "What if she's just one of those people who just likes to get a rise out of others by shocking them? Or maybe she thinks someone might be into kinky games like this, like girls with 'daddy issues'?"

A short silence ensued. Nicole stared back at Emily, quite baffled. Emily kept a straight face the whole time, but Nicole could tell that Emily was amused by her arguments. Eventually, Nicole turned to face Niedermayer, a pleading look on her face.

"I am awake, right? This is happening?" she said to him. Peter shrugged his shoulders.

 **To be continued…** **  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Backstrom: You've Got to be Kidding Me - 4**

 **With Peter and Nadia** **temporarily absent** , Nicole, Everett and Motto continued going over the case files, hoping to find a useful lead. However, the mystery female killer remained veiled in the shadows.

"According to the DNA markers, and the witness statements…as vague as they were...we are looking for a Caucasian woman between the ages of 20 and 30, North European ancestry, average height, fit, long brown hair, brown eyes," Motto read, pacing around the room, a frown on his face as if he was trying to 'see' this person and couldn't quite picture her.

Everett groaned and rubbed his hands across his face. They had burned through most of the night working on this case and now dawn was beginning to peak through the closed shade in the SCU offices. "Oh, that just narrows it down to every third woman in Portland," his surly tone wasn't lost on anyone in the room.

"If she even is from Portland," Nicole added glumly. "Or Oregon in general."

Emily tried to put the best face on what they had. "Well, she is almost certainly still currently in Portland," she pointed out. "Plus, she committed the first murder here. I seriously suspect she was born and raised in this city."

"The first murder that was linked to her was through the DNA evidence," Nicole pointed out in a clinical tone, trying to get her to dial back her enthusiasm for this tenuous lead. Emily glared at her, but didn't say anything.

"Maybe we should warn the public," Motto suggested. "Release the description and the behavioral profile."

Emily understood why he was saying this, every law officer's motto 'protect and serve' but dammit, little miss prim detective sergeant was right. This was a flimsy lead that she didn't want endangered. Emily shook her head. "If she finds out and feels that we're on to her, she could bolt."

Nicole sighed, searching for the behavioral profile in her copy of the case file. "Let's see," she said, looking at the sheaf of papers before she started reading out loud. "Mixed serial killer. Exhibits characteristics of both organized and disorganized serial killers. Seems to blend in pretty well, is careful enough not to leave fingerprints. But also targets random victims, occasionally uses improvised weapons, and rarely disposes of the bodies. Though her DNA isn't in the system, she likely has a prior criminal record, probably juvenile criminal record, for offences such as theft, vandalism, voyeurism, animal cruelty or arson. The fact that she committed the first known murder here in Portland, Oregon, means that she possibly grew up here. She might have had some sort of connection to the first victim, though no leads relating to that have been uncovered." Nicole let out a heavy sigh, looking up at Emily. "How does that help us find her?"

Emily shot her a glare because she hated it when people told her what she already knew. Still, she wasn't the only one floundering. "You have any other leads?" she countered. Nicole opened her mouth, about to instinctively mention the 25th John theory again, but Emily interjected. "Don't, please."

Nicole snapped her mouth shut and looked away. Everett and Moto could tell that comment wounded her, even though she'd probably never admit it.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

Nadia decided

she had enough of the verbal tennis that Gravely and Special Agent Baker were playing. Peter had snuck out earlier, but to where, he didn't say. That didn't concern the SCU civilian administrator and computer specialist. She had a good idea where he had escaped to.

She took the elevator down to the PPB parking garage and sure enough, there was Peter, directing the flatbed tow truck that carried the charred remains of Everett Backstrom's car into the area of the garage reserved for the Special Crimes Unit.

Peter nodded while motioning for the driver to continue his decent down the ramp. "Keep coming back—slowly now…back, back…"

The tow truck backup signal continued beeping as the truck backed in the space designated for the SCU.

The driver looked out at Peter. "Right here?"

"Yes, this will be fine. Just be careful with it," Peter warned

"Hey, I know what I'm doin'" the driver snapped. With that comment, the bed of the tow truck began to rise slowly.

"Easy, easy, not too fast," Forensic Specialist Neidermayer cautioned him.

The driver merely scowled at him as he continued raising the flatbed while it the same time slowly releasing the tow cable

"Almost there…Whoa!"

Suddenly Backstrom's sedan began to groan and before Peter or Nadia could say anything else, the back half of the car broke free and slid down the end of the trailer, spinning around 180 degrees while spilling the charred remains of the back seat onto the nice, clean concrete floor.

Both Nadia and Peter jumped out of the way when it happened. Tow truck driver looked aghast at what had taken place.

"Sacre Bleu!" Nadia swore in surprise.

Peter had a look of disbelief on his face.

The tow truck driver eased the front end of the sedan down until it was sitting in front of the backwards facing charred rear end of the car. The tow cable fell off the front end of the car with a metallic clang-along with the car's bumper.

"Okay, I gotta go," the truck driver hurriedly said as he lowered the flatbed, not bothering to get out and gather up the tow chain.

"Wait! You need to turn this around!" Nadia said to him while motioning at the back of the bifurcated sedan. When he didn't stop, she began swearing at him in French.

"I just got another radio call for a tow," he said as the put the truck into gear and headed back up the ramp and out of the parking garage.

Peter looked as if he was counting how many minutes he had left as SCU's Forensic Specialist. He stared blankly at the two pieces of Backstrom's sedan, not wanting to believe what had happened.

Nadia motioned hurriedly to a couple of stunned techs who had watched the whole incident. "Help us turn the back part of the car around, tres rapidement!"

They didn't understand what she had just said, but they got the gist of it through her hand motions. They quickly grabbed hold of the back of the sedan along with Nadia and Peter and began to turn it around.

"The Lieutenant is going to kill me when he sees what happened," Peter said morosely as they manhandled the back of sedan so it was facing the right direction.

Nadia gave him a reassuring smile. "Nonsense, you tell him you had to cut the car in two to get a better look at a possible source of ignition, we'll just cover up the front half with a tarp…."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **The Portland patrol officer sighed** , closing his copy of the case file. Emily stood up. "Now, after we have all gone over the facts of the case and got to know each other, I think it's time I take a look at the crime scene," she announced before turning to face Everett, a smirk on her face. "Wanna come with?" **  
** _ **  
**_Backstrom realized they were at dead end concerning this case, so he gave her a charming smile. "All right, but I get to drive." Then Everett remembered that his car had been burnt to a crisp.

He gave Nicole a quick hopeful glance hoping she would let him use her unmarked car. To avoid making her boss look bad and another possible battle with the annoying FBI Agent, Nicole graciously gave Backstrom her keys but with admonishment only he could hear as she started to pass them to him. 'Try not to destroy it, okay?'

Everett had given her a peeved look as he snatched to keys out of her hand and escorted Agent Baker out of the SCU bullpen down to the PPB station motor pool.

Once out on the road headed to Lake Oswego, Emily shifted in the passenger seat, studying the case file. Everett stole a glance at her as she read. Seeing that she was deep in thought, he tried to adjust the seat of the Ford sedan to fit his height, but that was always a strangely complicated task, at least in his mind. Usually when Gravely or Moto were driving, he just slumped down in the seat. He couldn't do that and drive at the same time. He missed his old car.

"You sure are flipping through this case file fast," Everett couldn't help but notice.

"A year ago, I took a course on speed reading," Emily said, not bothering to look up as she continued reading.

Everett frowned as he continued glancing over at her as she continued to read. "Did it work?"

"Not yet," Emily reluctantly admitted. "This is another go at it." Why was she reluctant to admit this in front of him? After all, he was just some Portland police detective. Okay, so he was a cute, scruffy city police detective.

Everett sighed, taking a turn to the right. "So... how did you get involved in this investigation?" he asked. "You said you've been chasing your killer since 2014. The first murder was in 2012." His question seemed clinical, but really he was trying to get her to open up about herself.

Emily looked up for a moment, and heaved a sad sounding sigh. "I was assigned to investigate the abduction and murder of Rena Keller."

"It figures," Everett said soberly while nodding. "The FBI is often involved in investigating crimes against children, mostly abduction and murder."

Emily looked up again, surprised that he knew so much about FBI habits. To hide her surprise, and piqued curiosity about this Portland detective, she pretended to watch the scenery outside the passenger side window. "When I got there, the DNA analysis was still in progress," she recalled, somewhat solemnly. "It was done by the end of the day. No match in CODIS. I decided to run the profile through ViCAP and bam!" she exclaimed as she turned to him, making Everett jerk slightly in surprise. The next moment, she was completely calm. "Five matches," she resumed looking at the report. "Of course, once I looked into those cases, I learned about the-supposedly-contaminated swabs. But there were no other leads, so I still looked further into them."

"That is when you really started using the ole' bs," Everett concluded. Emily stropped reading and turned to face him, eyes wide in surprise. _Did he say what I think he said?_ she thought. Suddenly he wasn't so cute anymore.

"Behavioral science," he calmly explained the initials used, realizing she had thought of some other word. He smirked when he realized that.

Emily realized she had almost slipped up and instead nodded her head. "Yes... I noticed the pattern." She frowned at his self-satisfied grin. "You are not too fond of FBI agents, right? Not even when they agree with you." She wanted to see what he said to that.

 _Ah, so the game begins…_ Everett chuckled and shook his head. "I like them better than Forensics folks, to be honest," he said, before pulling the car up to a near-by driveway. "We're here." He said announcing the obvious in hope of deflecting her probing him further. After all, they were just starting to work together. _Let's leave a little mystery in for now…._

They got out and walked under the crime scene tape and over to the front door, reaching into their pockets. They both fumbled, looking around awkwardly, until Emily finally brought up the issue. "You got gloves?"

"No," Everett admitted. For some reason this made him feel embarrassed.

Emily though, wasn't worried about boy-girl impressions at this moment. She was an FBI agent on the hunt. She sighed in resignation at their faux pas. "Screw it, they probably dusted and swabbed the whole place by now anyway."

Everett had to agree with her about that. He liked her style.

She opened the door and they walked in, and immediately headed to the living room. There were a few crime scene techs that were still there, but they didn't seem to take note of them . Detectives come in and out like this all the time, besides the FBI Agent still had her visitor's tag on and of course, they all knew Everett. Emily stopped mere inches away from the armchairs, studying the blood splatters around them.

She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Well, we are looking for a young Swedish woman, black hair, computer expertise, and a tongue piercing," she announced un-expectantly.

Everett stared at Emily for a long moment. He had a feeling she was teasing him, but she always kept a straight face, so he replied the only way he saw fit. "And?" he said calmly.

Emily turned to face him a serious look lacing her pretty features. "I'm pretty sure she has a dragon tattoo also." She added.

Backstrom's face fell. He glared at Emily. She grinned. "Scared you there, didn't I?"

He shook his head at her antic and walked around to the front of the chair.

Realizing her joke had fallen flat, she got back to reading the report. _Good one, Emily, ummm, foot tastes good._ "In the forensic report, I read that smeared traces of blood were found on the bedroom door, as well as the bathroom door," Emily said. "So, she murdered the man first. Eliminated the bigger threat..."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **She walked** over to the front of the armchair joining him, noticing traces of blood on it, the floor, and the near-by wall. Michael's body had been removed, so she consulted the photos in her file.

"No signs of a struggle, no defense wounds," Emily reasoned. "She must have sneaked up on him."

She took one more look inside the case file. "So, the preliminary M.E. report suggests that Michael Hill was bludgeoned with a hammer and a wine bottle and then strangled and garroted. A type of hammer still has to be determined. Most of the head wounds are overlapping. Amy's throat had a postmortem slit possibly from a knife. Possibly a switchblade." She frowned, looking up. "There is no mention of a bloody hammer or bloody knife being found on the scene," she noted.

"There wasn't any," Everett explained. "The killer must have taken them with her."

"Meaning that she most likely brought them with her also," Emily concluded, before turning her attention back to the file. "But, I saw the crime scene photographs..."

"The wire was taken from the basement, we're not sure where the razor wire came from," Everett confirmed. "We found the second part near-by."

Emily closed the file, and looked around. "So, she had a knife and a hammer. She bludgeons the man with a hammer, and then uses an improvised weapon, taken from the crime scene, to strangle and nearly decapitate him? Why so many weapons? Did she really hate him that much since he was just a secondary victim? I'm beginning to doubt Michael Hill was just a collateral victim. This murder was personal, at least on some level."

Everett nodded, knowing she was right. On some level he probably had figured that out earlier as well, but for some reason he never verbalized it to anyone.

Emily looked in the direction of the bedroom. "Of course, the main target must have been Amy Davis. She was sexually assaulted, after all, and moved from the bedroom into the bathroom."

Everett nodded his head again, getting the feeling [at least to him] that he was starting to look like one of those bobble head dolls. "After the murder, the killer washed the bed sheets, washed her clothing, put her body in the bathtub, and left the hot water running."

Emily though was too consumed with the case to notice Backstrom's concerns about how he looked to her. "Probably a forensic countermeasure," She concluded thinking aloud. "But it could also be a sign of remorse. Trying to clean up the victim, "wash away" the sins..." she sighed heavily. "Which, once again, might mean that the killer knew this victim intimately."

Emily looked around again. "All the windows were wide open, like usual. But there is no damage to any of them. Nor the doors..."

Everett interrupted her. "Meaning that the killer probably had the key! At least I figured she did."

Emily grinned, observing the living room couch. "Neat." She continued walking around, studying every corner. Then she walked down the hall and looked into the bathroom and inspected the bathroom cabinet. "Maybe Amy's friend," she suggested. "Or a girlfriend… mistress..." She turned to face Backstrom. "Her relationship with Michael must have been... complicated at best."

Everett frowned, unsure of how to respond. Emily chuckled. "So, there is something you didn't notice... There are barely any photographs of the two of them together on display. The couch has been really wrinkled, like somebody had been sleeping on it often. Probably Michael, because... because. Not to mention, the cabinet in the living room/bathroom, the one closest to the couch, is filled with male cosmetics, cologne included, while containing not a single female deodorant, perfume or a shampoo." She grinned. "You should probably check their home computers... laptops... tablets, whatever. And check their phone and email records. Bank accounts too."

Everett gave her a quick nod. "We... my... colleagues are working on that," he said unsteadily. The Head of the SCU hated being caught off guard. Especially by an FBI Agent, even if she was pretty.

He looked around and took a deep breath, a frown appearing on his face as he took in the crime scene.

"I am a killer," he started, ignoring Emily's obvious confusion. "A serial killer. I have already murdered eight people. I want Amy. I want her, I desire her... but I also hate her. She is with a man. They live together. I can never have her. So, I prepare my hammer, and my knife, and gloves. And my key. Tonight, I sneak in. Probably through the front door. I sneak up to Michael, I really hate him. I take my hammer, and hit him over the head, Not satisfied that I've done enough damage I then take the Vodka bottle and hit him again, and again, and again, just for fun. But I am still not satisfied. I really hate him. He disgusts me. In a murderous frenzy, I forget about my hammer and my knife. I take the wire, wrap it around his neck, and choke him until the ligature pierces his skin, then I begin sawing it back and forth. Ooops, too hard, almost sawed his head off. Okay, gotta cool down. Okay. Then, I compose myself, take my knife, and start looking for..."

He stopped, his eyes wide, a look of realization appearing on his face.

"She had to put the hammer down..." he concluded, before walking over to the area around the armchair again. He looked around, and soon focused on a small pool of blood on a near-by cupboard. Emily followed him, despite her confusion.

"Of course", Everett exclaimed. "A pool of blood. Forensics should take a closer look... the shape could help them determine the type of hammer used, maybe find some residue..." He looked up at Emily. "Or so I heard. "

Emily stared at him in awe, her cheeks flushed. "Did you just do..."

Everett frowned not understanding what was going one. "What?"

"Profiling," Emily near whispered, leaning a bit closer to him. She was intrigued that someone was a good a profiler as she was and he wasn't half bad looking either. Truthfully the eating of his fries was just a ploy she used to get a guy interested in helping. But now she found herself thinking about more than just her case. _This guy has potential in all sorts of ways…._

Everett nervously smirked. "There is no name for my method. I once told Gravely that I see everyone in everyone, the good, the bad…." He looked around. "Unless you want to... linger around some more, I think we can, um, go back to the precinct now."

"Can we stop at a burger joint like McDonalds on a way?" Emily asked as she followed him. She hoped he didn't notice that she was checking him out from the rear.

Everett turned and gave her another grin knowing what she had been doing, because he would have done the same thing if he were in her place. "I had a cheeseburger and fries about an hour ago, so... yes. Except I'm going to take you to Red Robin, their burgers are better." He looked at his watch, it was almost 11:30 am. Hard to believe that they had going over evidence in this house since daybreak. But Emily had made the time fly by. Yeah, close enough for lunch.

They started heading toward the door, when Emily asked another question.

"What happened to your car, anyway?" Emily asked, casually. _God that was stupid question! Baker, you couldn't come up with anything else to talk about? Okay, calm down, he'll just see it as me taking an interest in something that happened to him…  
_  
Everett muttered shaking his head. "My car?" He wasn't ready for that one.

"You thought I came to your unit because of your car, you had to borrow the car from Nikita..." She reminded him.

"Nikita? Oh, you mean Nicole, er, Detective Gravely," Everett corrected her.

Emily chuckled, half embarrassed. "Yes. Sorry. Red hair..." She turned to face Backstrom. "What's the deal with that?"

Backstrom shrugged. "Well, red hair is relatively common, regardless of what those hack geneticists have been saying." He saw the sarcastic look on her face about that piece of trivial information, undaunted, he continued. "As for my car, that is a long, complicated story... terrifying, really…."  
 **  
x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Gregory Valentine was sitting** at his favorite coffee bar having chocolate mocha latte when someone bumped him causing his face to dip into whipped crème that floated on top of the drink

"You could at least say 'excuse me'."

The guy who had bumped him, a person that could best be described as a young professional snorted and turned. "Look slick, if you hadn't been halfway out in the aisle, that wouldn't have happened to you."

The guy snapped his fingers at the stunned barista. "Hey you, double espresso with milk, on the double, I'm in a hurry!"

Greg wiped the crème off his face and stood up. "Her name is Doris and don't treat her like a dullard. By the way, I'd like it if you'd apologize," he said in a calm voice while staring at the man.

The guy gave him a quick once over. He may talk like Clint Eastwood, but he isn't any threat. "Buzz off beatnik, I'm in a hurry," He turned his back to Greg. "Hey Doris, could you get the lead out, time is money and your tip is fast disappearing," He warned her.

In one fluid motion Greg came around to face him and chopped the man on the front of his neck before he could say or do anything.

The man said something like 'Gack' and doubled over onto heading toward the floor. Greg Valentine bent down and reached out for him before hit the floor and helped him to his unsteady feet.

He looked over at a stunned Doris. "Could you get him a glass of water? I think he's feeling faint," Greg steered him over to an empty booth.

The man's eyes were wild with shock but he still couldn't say anything. "Easy, easy, just breathe," Greg advised him as he settled him into the booth.

The man nodded and tried to swallow.

Doris brought over the glass of water and man's order. "Is he going to be all right?" she asked

"He'll be fine. By way, he wanted to tip you for getting that to him so quickly, right?"

The implied threat was there. The man quickly pulled out his wallet and shoved a twenty into the stunned girl's hands.

"Did you want to say anything else?" Greg said to him in that same calm voice.

The man quickly nodded, his throat still hurt but he managed to get out a squeaky "Sorry,"

"Thanks. Here, let me help you to your feet," Greg helped the man to his feet. "Oh, don't forget your latte."

"Thanks," he squeaked again and quickly made his way out of the shop.

The girl came back over and dropped a handwritten note into Greg's shirt pocket

"I get off at 6," she said quietly to him as she walked back to the bar.  
 **  
x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **John Almond was sitting** at his desk re-reading the information about Stefan Marquez, hoping there was something there that he missed before. He didn't notice Amy Grazanian, a member of the Portland Bureau of Police's Civilian Oversight Committee (for Misconduct) when she walked in.

John's cool green eyes flicked from the page to the woman who had just entered his line of sight.

"Ms. Grazanian, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he said with his usual disarming smile.

Amy smiled back. She always enjoyed the way John treated everyone with kindness, be they the scum of the earth or an exalted political official. Why couldn't Everett be more like him?

"The Board would like to have you come next Thursday-"

"-and testify as to the mental stability of my boss, Everett Backstrom?" he finished for her.

Amy flushed crimson. It was that lay preacher manner of his that made her feel like a prostitute caught with a john.

"It- it's a requirement-"

"-for his continued employment with the Portland Bureau of Police's Special Crimes Unit as the unit head," he said again finishing her sentence for her.

She gave him a pained look. "Would you please not do that?"

"Sorry," he said smiling, "just trying to help with an awkward conversation."

Amy knew he wasn't trying to be combative. That wasn't John's style, but maybe he was trying to make a point. "You know I don't like reminding you about this,"

"And yet you still do it," he said blandly as if it were just a statement of fact.

But something told her he was not just giving her a statement of fact. So she responded in kind. "Because it is my job," she said bluntly, not liking his insinuation.

John gave her that soulful preacher look. "Sorry."  
She sighed. Was she projecting her feelings about Everett onto John? It was possible. She tried to salvage what she could of this conversation. "Look, I know you don't like it and to tell you the truth, neither do I, but the-"

"Civilian Oversight Committee,"

"Yes, John," she said somewhat testily, "the Civilian Oversight Committee requires that I remind you about your duties to the Committee."

John nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I know, because they believe I will give an honest assessment of my boss's performance."

"Not only do they believe you will, but also because you would feel duty-bound to do so," she replied.

John's friend smile faded. "Then they should also remember that I am Everett's friend as well as his co-worker and that I will not say anything to disparage Everett Backstrom or what he has done for this department and for the Portland Bureau of Police in general."

Amy felt as if she had been wacked on the nose with a newspaper. She started to say something tart in reply but knew that John was only doing what any real friend would do. Amy could hardly call herself that at this point.

"Just please be there," she ended up saying before turning to head out of the SCU bullpen. As she started to head away from John's desk, she took note of a rather gorgeous, well-built blond that was talking animatedly with Everett as they made their way toward the SCU.

"Everett," Amy said calmly to him. For his part the Detective Lieutenant looked from her to Emily and then back again.

"Um, yeah, hello Amy, this is-

Emily quickly reached out her hand and shook Amy's in a professional manner. "Emily Baker, FBI, Ms.?"

Amy was caught off guard by her maneuver, but she quickly recovered. "Grazanian, Amy Grazanian, Portland Bureau of Police Civilian Oversight Committee. What brings you to Portland, Agent Baker?"

"I'm working with your Special Crimes Unit on a series of murders that could be tied to a serial killer," Emily said in her best professional tone.

Amy wanted to say that it wasn't 'her' Special Crimes Unit but a little green eye monster did not like the looks of this so-called FBI Agent. Too much makeup. So she didn't say anything about that comment. "A serial killer, here, in Portland? I hope that Detective Lieutenant Backstrom and his unit have been helpful."

 _Whoa, so this is my competition,_ Emily thought as she nodded. _Blond, cute, but kind of a pinched face, like she's been eating persimmons or something…_ "Yes, Detective Lieutenant Backstrom and the Special Crimes Unit has been very helpful in this investigation."

Moto had just dropped off some papers in Backstrom's office and was headed back to his desk when he saw what John and Nicole were witnessing, or trying hard not to witness. There was an obvious territory fight going on and clueless Everett was the property being fought over.

Amy gave this interloper an ingratiating smile. "Well, I should hope so. Lieutenant Backstrom can be somewhat unconventional, and at times abrasive, but he and the SCU are a good asset."

Everett slowly began to realize he had stepped into the middle of something here. Emily and Amy looked like they had forgotten anyone else was in the room, including him.

"I haven't had any problems at all with Detective Backstrom or the SCU. In fact they've been the god-send I've been looking for," Emily said pleasantly, "Are you saying there is something I should know about?" As she finished, she cocked her head like a dog, as if she didn't understand why Amy was being so negative about this group of professionals.

The heads of the three SCU members surreptitiously watching this 'conversation' turned their heads ever so slightly toward Amy like they were watching a tennis match they weren't supposed to watch.

That was a shot across the bow. Amy felt a flash of anger and something else stir in her. _Oh no you don't!"_ Detective Lieutenant Backstrom can be somewhat problematic at times, but overall he's an asset to this unit and our police force."

"But you say he's abrasive, and problematic?" Emily arched her eyebrow. Now she had her. _Let's see her try to wiggle her skinny little butt out of this one…._

Everett could see that Amy was losing that battle, and he had to admit what she had said about him and the SCU wasn't too flattering, but still, this was Amy, so he came to her defense. "What Ms. Grazanian is trying to say-"

But he didn't get very far because Ms. Grazanian taught her daughter to fight her own battles. She threw a warning look at Everett and then smiled again at this strumpet posing as an FBI Agent.

"What I'm trying to say, Special Agent Baker, is that Everett Backstrom has his personal good and bad points, like everyone does, but he gets the job done, he and his team have saved countless lives, and are considered a real asset, not only to Portland Bureau of Police, but to the city of Portland as well." Before Emily could say anything to that, she charged on. "The Committee which I work is merely ensuring that protocol is followed but overall, Everett Backstrom is an impressive detective with uncanny skills that ensures he always gets who he is after."

 _Take that!_

Emily though was not surprised by her comments. The fact was that she let her know that Detective Lieutenant Backstrom, though considered a little rough around the edges, was a catch. That's okay, she liked them a little rough around the edges. Besides, she was no polished stone herself, unlike Miss Goodie Two Shoe Holier Than Thou Committee member.

"Well, that's good, you had me worried there for a moment, Ms. Grazanian, but if he is as good as you say he is, don't be surprised if in my report back to my superiors that I mention that Detective Lieutenant Backstrom would make an excellent addition to the local branch office here in Portland. She paused for effect. "Maybe even in Washington."

Everett was flabbergasted [and very flattered] by this comment.

Moto was stunned and yet pleased at the same time. Nicole looked like she was going to throw up. Gentleman John had a faint smile on his face. It was nice to hear such warm compliments about his friend, though he knew deep down, it was probably a prelude to getting into his pants, which Everett certainly wouldn't mind.  
 **  
x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Nicole needed** to get out of there. Emily Baker was practically seducing Everett Backstrom, and she couldn't stand watching that. Why, she didn't know. All she knew was that it made her ill watching her antics – especially this territorial fight with Amy. So she decided to drive over to the hospital and see how Steven was doing.

Using her Portland Police Bureau badge to get past the Head Nurse on his floor, and the police officer stationed outside his room, Nicole made her way in, silently slipping inside.

Steven Kines was hooked to several different machines, an IV drip, and a respirator. The sight of him being hooked to so many beeping and whirring machines and seeing how frail and vulnerable he looked lying there in that bed rocked Nicole Gravely to her core.

She hesitatingly reached out and gently touched his scruffy face with her hand and held it there for a few moments. "Oh, Steven," she said quietly as tears filled her eyes.

Steven Kines eyes fluttered open and looked at her, causing her heart to soar. "Everything's going to be fine," Nicole said quietly as tears began to run down her smiling face. She continued to hold her hand against his cheek.

Steven reached up with his right hand trailing his IV and held her hand. Suddenly his face grimaced. Alarms began to sound. Nicole, panic-stricken, looked up with alarm and saw his heart monitor was flashing and beeping furiously.

The door to Steven's room opened with a crash as a nurse came running in. She took one look at the messages the machines were giving and slapped the emergency button on the wall next to his bed. "CODE BLUE! ROOM 412! CODE BLUE!" she barked into the mike.

She cut a quick look over at a stunned Nicole. "Ma'am! You have to leave! Now!" Nicole stumbled out of the room, keeping her eyes on a grimacing Steven the whole time.

She had gotten out of the room just in time as a team of nurses, orderlies, and nursing assistants, lead by a doctor rolled a cart with several machines on it into his room. Nicole stood over at the window that allowed her to look into the room at the hospital staff swarming around ADA Kines.

"BP is one ten and dropping!" one nurse reported.

"He's having trouble breathing!" announced another.

"He's going into cardiac arrest!" the doctor declared urgently.

"Paddles charged!" called out an orderly. Another nurse held the two oval paddles in the air.

"Clear!" barked the doctor as the nurse applied the paddles to Steven's chest.

Nicole almost looked away when Steven's body jumped under the assault from the cardiac defibrillator.

"Anything?" The doctor said as he put his stethoscope on Steven's now exposed chest.

The nurse who had been monitoring his vitals nodded. "He's stabilizing!"

The doctor pulled his stethoscope away from Steven's chest while shaking his head. "His breathing is still labored! I don't like this!" He looked up at the nurses and orderlies.

"Let's get him out of here now! Prep OR three! Stat!"

"Yes, Doctor!" one of nurses replied before running out of the room and down the hallway past a stunned and frightened Nicole.

In a moment two orderlies arrived with a wheeled gurney and bulled their way into the already crowded room.

"Ready?" one of the orderlies asked urgently.

The doctor quickly nodded. Everyone in the room seemed to grab the sheets underneath a now unconscious Steven. "One, two, three, shift!"

They quickly lifted Steven onto the gurney as the nurses pulled his IV off its mount and hooked it onto the stand on the back of the gurney.

They quickly wheeled Steven Kines past Nicole as she flattened against the window, watching as the group of nurses, nursing assistants, orderlies, and the doctor headed down the hallway and disappeared around a corner.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

Nicole sat staring

blankly at her terminal. She didn't notice Nadia walk over toward her desk.

"Nicole," she said to the Detective Sergeant.

Gravely, though, didn't move. Her mind was turning over and over her last conversation with Steven Kines.

" _Your 25_ _th_ _John is in law enforcement-"  
_  
 _"So? You've taken down corrupt officers and politicians before-"_

 _"Not like this one-and he has friends-the right kind of friends, and he is well connected."_  
 _  
"How well connected?"_

 _"So well connected that he could have gotten you fired—fired and brought up on charges. So I made a deal with him. I told him that I would take care of it—that you wouldn't be a concern anymore."_

Nadia moved closer to Nicole, maybe she just didn't hear her "Nicole," she said a little louder.

" _My 24 convictions-"_

 _"It was either that, or have you face corruption charges, multiple felonies, solicitation…you would have been disgraced and financially ruined."_

" _But I was doing good work! You know I was!"_

" _I do, that's what brought you to my attention in the first place…"_

"… _but you snared the wrong person, wrong place, wrong time. He's powerful and very vindictive."_

Now Nadia was almost beside her, what was wrong with her? "Nicole!" she said sharply grabbing Gravely's arm.

" _How powerful?"_

 _"I've said enough-"_

 _"Steven,"_

 _"Nicole- Uhnnnnn!"_

The crack of a high powered rifle made Nicole Gravely flinch. In slow motion, in her mind's eye, she saw Steven Kines eyes' bulge as he grabbed his abdomen, grunting and doubling over. Nicole drew her service weapon, flipping it off safety, and ducking behind a nearby car. From there she did a scan of the area. Nothing. Then she saw him grimacing as a team of nurses and doctors worked on him. _Clear!_

Nadia reached out and shook the SCU Detective Sergeant's arm. "Nicole!"

Nicole Gravely started. "Huh? Wha-?" She looked as if she had been a thousand miles away and now was suddenly jerked back here.

The French born PPB civilian administrator and computer expert was alarmed by that look. It was a haunted look. One of pain and guilt…and something else. "Nicole! What's the matter?!"

The disturbed look on Nadia's face was all it took. Nicole burst into tears. Nadia gathered her friend into her arms. "Oh, cher, what is it?" she whispered quietly to Nicole as she held her. Gravely seemed to collapse into her friend's arms, shaking uncontrollably while she cried.

"St- Steven's been moved to ICU," Nicole stammered between sobs as she held onto Nadia like she was life preserver. "They won't let me see him. Th-They called in a crash cart while I—while I-while…." Nicole began crying again in earnest, her body wracked by sobs.

It was obvious that whatever had happened had shaken Detective Sergeant Nicole Gravely to her core. Nadia pulled back and looked at her face-to-face. "Oh honey, c'mon, we're taking a break before the others get back from lunch." She got up and took a still crying Nicole by the hand and began to lead her out of the SCU bullpen.

"Wh-Where's B- Backstrom?" Nicole asked as she looked around, her voice husky from unshed tears.

Nadia turned and gave her friend a reassuring smile and patted her hand. "Don't you worry about him. I'll leave a note on Peter's desk, he'll cover for us."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

Everett and Emily were back

in his office.

Emily looked around and gave the office a cursory sniff and smiled. God, how she loved the smell of stale tobacco mixed with the odor of junk food. It was like they were soulmates. His office looked like a cyclone had roared through his file cabinets. Not as bad as hers, but pretty close. Good, she couldn't stand neat-niks. They were always on her to clean up her office, her car, her apartment. Nag, nag, nag. This guy probably wouldn't nag her, no, he'd probably make love to her right here amidst the pile of fast food wrappers and overflowing ashtrays. She felt herself getting turned on by that very thought.

The SCU had his back turned to her looking out the window at the developing rain clouds. "So you wanted to talk some more about the case," he said in what he hoped was a professional tone. The last thing he needed right now was another visit with the folks at HR.

"The case? Yeah, sure, the case, yeah," she said distractedly as she tried to sneak another look at his butt. It was a cute butt.

Everett turned around and gave her a curious look. "Are you all right?"

Caught. "Me?" she practically squeaked, "I'm fine, just a little distracted by the tobacco odor." _Good save, there, Em. Real smooth._

Everett looked hacked. "Sorry, I'm a closet smoker and pretty much a slob. I'll get Moto in here to get these ashtrays. I'm really not even supposed to have them in here-"

Emily stood up and walked over to him putting her hand on his arm. "No! No, it's okay, I like the smell, in fact, I kind of miss it."

Everett felt like his arm was on fire—a good kind of fire. "You do?"

Emily was busily rattling away with her explanation, not really listening to him, hoping that her chatter would distract him and keep her from getting written up for inappropriate comments, again. "Yeah, I quit cold turkey last week, orders from the agency doctor."

Everett felt he was talking to a kindred spirit. "The departmental physician said I should give them up as well, he said they'd kill me-"

"Want to light up?" she said like they were sharing dirty secrets.

Backstrom's eyebrows rose into his tousled hairline. "Are you serious?"

She nodded while biting her lower lip as if embarrassed by her admission. "I've been dying for one since I got off the plane."

Everett quickly walked around to one of his desk drawers, ripping it open and threating to start a paper avalanche from his desktop. He hurriedly fished out the cigarette package and opened it for her. "Here, I hope this brand is okay."

She gave him a pleased smile as she sat down. "It's my favorite. Light me up, big boy." Everett fumbled for his lighter but quickly got hold of it and lit her cigarette tip.

Emily leaned back in her chair and deeply inhaled causing the cigarette to glow red. She puffed several smoke rings into the air. "Oh god," she moaned, "That is so good." She took another puff and then leaned forward with a lecherous grin on her face. "Have you got any of that hamburger left?"

Everett opened the bag he had set on his desk and gave her what was left of her burger. "Here, you can have what's left of mine. I wasn't as hungry as I thought." Truth be told, he was hungry. But it was a different kind of hungry. He wished she'd stand up or bend over or stretch….

She smiled wolfishly at the curled up remains of the hamburger as she took it in her hand and quickly unwrapped it. She gave Everett a wink as she sank her teeth into the sandwich. "Thanks…oh man, this is living," she sighed. That's when she saw that look. Like she had the burger smeared all over her face. "What? What are you staring at?"

"I—I—You." Everett was having a hard time keeping in mind that she was a federal agent. He was having all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about her and what he'd like to do to her.

Emily felt herself flush. "Me?" Was it because she was embarrassed or was he as turned on as she was?

The SCU Head wasn't sure what she was thinking at this point. So he wanted reassure her that he wasn't thinking anything bad, dirty maybe, degenerate, but not bad. "You're not doing anything bad, in fact, you're—you're perfect."

Now Emily felt a flutter in her chest. "Perfect?" she said barely above a whisper.

Everett's toes curled as he nodded. "You love fast food, you smoke, I bet—I bet you like beer."

"I do, but unless you have a secret stash in here." She glanced around the office. You could hide an Abrams tank under some these piles. "You don't have a secret stash in here, do you?"

The Detective Lieutenant shook his head, really wishing he had put a stash in here. "No."

She shook her head in disappointment. "Damn, that would have made it perfect, you know." She got up and saw he was staring at her, again. "What?" This time the question had a seductive lilt to it.

"And you, you're – you're making me horny." There, he said it. HR be damned.

That seductive smile was back. "Well, if we're going to be blunt, I almost had an orgasm when I walked into this office, and you're not half bad looking either," she said with a teasing smile.

"Half bad?" He couldn't tell whether she was joking or not.

Emily grimaced realizing she had screwed up the moment, again. "Sorry, I was trying to be coy. I suck at being coy."

But that was far from the truth as far as Everett Backstrom was concerned. In Emily, he saw a wild night in bed, maybe a few days too. "Me too, say after work, if it's all right, would you like to go out, get a few beers?"

Emily felt uncharacteristically nervous. She'd had lots of men, in lots stranger places. So why be so unsettled about going out with this hunk for beers. "I—I was hoping you'd ask me that." _Wow Em, that didn't sound needy at all._ She cleared her throat. "Yes, I'd love to go out for a few beers and maybe some extracurricular exercise? I could use some, you know, to stay in shape."

Everett nodded giving her a lusty smile of his own. "Exercise is good, especially after a good meal."

x*x*x*x*x*x

 **Nicole and Nadia sat** at a back table next to the window in the nearly empty break room. An early afternoon shower had just begun outside. Nadia sat down at the table and gave her friend a cup of steaming tea. "There, hun, feeling better?"

Nicole's face was still puffy and red from her most recent crying bout. She gave Nadia an embarrassed look as she dabbed at her eyes with a wadded up tissue. "A little, Nadia, I'm sorry about-"

Nadia patted her hand again and gave her another understanding smile. "Don't worry about it. No one saw you, just me. It'll be our secret, yes?"

Nicole gave her a weak smile in return. "Yes, I mean, sure. Thank you."

The French born SCU computer specialist nodded her acceptance of Gravely's words. "We girls have to stick together. Whatever you tell me, will be between us girls, yes?"

Nadia had done this to her before. While she was Nicole's best friend—make that the only female friend in the SCU, she did have a habit of asking uncomfortably probing questions sometimes. Maybe it was just her way. Nicole lowered her voice as she leaned in closer. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

Nadia nodded her head solemnly like she was taking some sort of secret oath. "I promise,"

Gravely looked around to make sure no one was close to their table and lowered her voice a little more as she took her Styrofoam cup of steaming tea in both hands. "I think I'm still in love with Steven." There, she said it. It was out in the open.

For all of her prying questions up to this point, Nadia seemed non-plussed by this admission. "This is the man who threw you to the pigs…I mean, dogs? No?"

Nicole was confused by her action and comment. "Yes…and, uh, no."

"Do you feel guilty because of what happened to him?" Nadia asked her in a questioning voice.

Nicole couldn't believe what Nadia had just asked her. She had just bared her soul to the only other woman in their unit and now she was questioning her motives for saying it?

"What? No! But what's happened to him…that's made me…realize…that I do love him." She gave Nadia a pleading look. Hoping since she was French, she would understand.

But Nadia Paquet, for all of her teasing with Backstrom and her current relationship with Peter Neidermayer, revealed herself to be more of a practical woman than a romantic. "Oh Nicole, but what about the trust issues you two were having?"

True, the trust issues had been mentioned before she went to that fateful meeting with ADA Kines that evening, but Nadia needed to know what had changed that. "Steven confessed right before he was shot that he exposed my operation because he was forced to…and to protect me."

Nadia gave her friend a questioning look about that last part. "Protect you?"

Nicole nodded. "Yes…my 25th John was…is someone very powerful in law enforcement."

Nadia immediately put her hands on Nicole's. "Mon Dieu Nicole! Listen to me, cher, you have to tell Everett! Toute suite!"

Gravely couldn't believe what she was hearing from Nadia. "What?! Are you kidding?! He already thinks I slept with half of Portland! And if Agent Baker gets a whiff of me having a fling with ADA Kines-"

Nadia held her hand to still her objection. "Don't worry about that, cher, you let me talk to Everett."

"Nadia, I can't let you do that," Nicole said urgently. The last thing in this world she wanted right now was Nadia blabbing to Everett Backstrom. She had done enough of that herself already. She was still reeling from what she had told him in her drunken stupor the other night.

But Nadia wouldn't listen to her objections. "Nicole, this is eating you…what's the phrase, ah yes! Inside out. Everett will understand once I explain it to him."

Great. So much for keeping this between the two of them. "Okay, but there's something else you need to know," Nicole replied, deciding that she didn't want Nadia blindsided by what Backstrom already knew.

"What's that?" Nadia asked.

"Steven told me that Amy Davis was tied to my 25th John as well." So now she and Backstrom would on the same page when she talked with him.

"You mean that the Amy you knew when you were undercover is that Amy?" She and Nadia had talked before about her time undercover and how she and Amy Davis had become good friends, well as 'good friends' as they could considering Nicole was living a lie. Still, she and Amy had built a rapport of sorts, so Nadia deserved to know this part as well.

"Uh huh," Nicole replied. She wondered if she was doing the right thing telling her this. Well, her emotional meltdown in the SCU had lead to this….

Nicole could see that Nadia was having a hard time processing all this. "Does Everett know?"

Okay, now to hit her with the kicker. "Yeah, and that the 25th John had ties to Michael Hill as well."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

The Wabacoochie County Sherriff sat

with his feet propped up on his desk, as he watched the latest breaking news report from Portland.

The reporter was petite brunette with lots of bouncy curls and dark penetrating eyes. She wore a mask of concern as she continued her report. "…and as of this afternoon, Assistant District Attorney Steven Kines remains in critical condition. Reporting live, Johanna Lively, News Channel 7."

 _I bet she is lively,_ Blue thought with a lusty chuckle as he shook his head and turned off the television. She was cute, but right now he had more pressing concerns. He had warned that idiot who ran the Multnomah County Sheriff's office against doing this, but he did he listen?

Hell no.

And now look what a mess he had made. All he had to do was threaten Kines and this would have never happened. But no, he had to panic right along with that moron that was running the Portland Bureau of Police's Drugs and Vice Division, and this was the result.

This was definitely Blue Bear's work. And that idiot savant 'son' of his who could 'read' people would quickly figure out that 1st Nation Oxblood former army sniper, Tommy Blue Bear, was the one who shot Kines, and once he caught him it would be only a manner of time before it all came crashing down.

All that hard work down the crapper. Luckily, he was only tangentially involved. Blue had made a deal with the 1st Nation Tribal Council that as long he caught any poachers on their land, he could run Colstrum and Scone's clients through the Reservation's casino.

It was a great little operation that laundered their money and gave him and the tribe a nice percentage fee for their services. But that gravy train was in danger of derailing now, thanks to those two idiots. Well, there was no use in crying over spilled milk. The tribe would re-coop their losses through the casino. He got up and stretched, looking out his window. The rain was slacking off and he knew the poachers, especially Jimmy Two Trees, former tribe member, would be out there getting all the fish and wildlife they could before nightfall.

Blue put on belt and holster and his 'smokey bear' hat. It was time to go earn his pay, and get his annual protection fee from Jimmy Two Trees.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Frank Moto** **walked down** the hall toward the Special Crimes Unit offices. Because it was still early, not all the hallway lights were set to come on yet, making the semi-dark seem somewhat comforting. Much better than the harsh lighting that greets everyone later in the day.

Moto took a sip from his coffee cup as he walked into the bullpen area. He looked over at the 'evidence wall', as they called it. So many deaths; could they really be tied to the shooting of ADA Kines? It was obvious that Nicole was clearly upset about Kines being shot—there was definitely more to that. Had Nicole Gravely really been in a relationship with-

"You're here early, Frank."

Moto turned and saw John Almond sitting at his desk looking at his terminal.

The PPB patrol officer smirked at seeing the senior SCU detective here. Oh course John was here. "John, you have any idea why Backstrom wanted us in this early in the morning?" he asked.

John looked up from his terminal and gave that patented friendly father-confessor look. "You usually get here about this time anyway, don't you?"

Moto chuckled at that. "Yeah, but what's your excuse?"

John shrugged. "I needed some quiet time I couldn't get at the house to organize my thoughts for tomorrow night's sermon," he looked back down at his terminal and continued typing.

"What's gonna be your topic, preacher?" Moto asked as he came over to John's desk.

John stopped typing and looked up the Portland uniformed officer. "The wages of sin…."

"Ooo, I like that one. Peter, could we go?"

John and Moto looked up to see a curious Nadia Paquet and Peter Neidermayer making their way into the SCU bullpen. It was no secret that they were dating. But since it was so early, they wouldn't draw too many judgmental looks coming in together like this.

Peter looked at John who gave him an almost imperceptible nod of acceptance. "I don't see why not," he replied.

"You two are here early," Moto observed making a statement of the obvious.

"Backstrom told us there was an early morning meeting, so here we are," Peter replied.

Apparently this was an 'all hands on deck' meeting. Now the only person missing was Nicole Gravely.

Nadia had turned her head and was following a dark haired young woman wearing a black rain coat who had just entered the room. Peter, John and Moto did the same.

"Can I help you, miss?" Moto said as he moved to intercept her. Whoever she was she seemed to know her way around the bullpen as she headed directly for Nicole's desk. Maybe this was someone that had made an appointment to see her. John started to get out of his chair as well.

The dark haired woman looked directly at John. "It's all right John, Moto, it's me, Gravely."

Nadia started. "Nicole, tha- that is…incredible!" she said in amazement at her friend's transformation. Peter and Moto had stunned looks on their faces as well. There was a slight resemblance to their fellow officer and friend, but the clothes, the hair, and the make-up had pretty much obliterated any traces of Nicole Gravely, Detective Sergeant in the PPB's Special Crimes Unit.

"This was part of your undercover persona?" John asked as he gave her a visual once over. To him, this lady looked nothing like Detective Sergeant Nicole Gravely.

Nicole gave them a quick nod as she sat down at her terminal and began typing in typical Nicole fashion. "Yes, I'll explain more in a moment…."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Nicole Gravely** **looked out** at her audience. She wasn't much for public speaking, but at least here she was among friends, well, most of the group anyway. She cleared her throat as she looked at them and Special Agent Baker who had just arrived with Everett Backstrom. "I know all of you have heard the rumors. Well, now I'm going to set the record straight. I may look a little different this morning, but that is because you are seeing me in my undercover disguise as Laura Renee Walters."

A little different was an understatement. Detective Sergeant Gravely now had coal black hair stopping at her shoulders in bouncy curls. She had shed her raincoat revealing she was wearing a hot pink sleeveless wrap dress with a plunging v-neckline which accented her enhanced chest area thanks also to a wonder bra. She wore black nude stockings and hot pink strappy high heel shoes. Her heavily made up face (eye shadow matching her clothes, heavy black eyeliner, black thickened eyelashes, rouge on her cheeks and hot pink lipstick) was accented by flashy gold dangling earrings. Though heavy on the make-up, it didn't look caked on. No, actually it looked like it had been done by a professional make-up staff.

She paused and licked her lips, ducking her head for moment before she looked up and continued. "…before I came here, I was assigned to Vice under Detective Lieutenant Scone."

Nicole saw looks of sympathy on the faces her fellow team members. Agent Baker, she couldn't read. Undaunted by this, she continued.

"There were reports that the Russian Mob and the local criminal syndicate in Portland were trying to make in-roads at Mademoiselle Faberge's Night Club and Cabaret."

At mention of this information, Nadia eyebrows raised. John, Peter, and Moto's faces though, were unmoved by this information. They were well aware of the problems these two groups had caused the city.

"Lieutenant Scone sent me in undercover as Walters, with the District Attorney's blessing, to find the Mafiya infiltrators. At the same time, I was also tasked with neutralizing any criminal elements that may have infiltrated the club and Alyssa Timshenko's escort service."

Nicole paused as a flood of memories about Steven hit her.

"Working with ADA Steven Kines, I found and arrested drug dealers, human traffickers, child molesters, rapists, and other persons of interest, including notorious 'Johns', let in by the Mafiya and syndicate infiltrators. Ms. Timshenko and those arrested knew me as Ms. Walters, a confidential informant for the Portland Bureau of Police."

She paused again, noting that Everett Backstrom was listening to her every word, most likely trying to get into her mind.

"We were doing well until I ran across a 'John' – I'm not even sure which one – who found out who I really was, and blackmailed ADA Kines into shutting down the operation and overturning my previous twenty four convictions in connection with this sting operation. I didn't know it at the time, but ADA Kines did this to protect me. ADA Kines then told me he and Lieutenant Scone were going to have a press conference about the operation and that Walters had violated informant policy by engaging in prostitution and all cases involving Walters would be dismissed. That was better than revealing who I really was. Though my cover took the fall, ADA Kines and I thought we had saved all those involved. Turns out I was wrong. Lieutenant Scone came to me later and told me I was going to be brought up on misconduct charges. He gave me a choice – resign from Vice, or be fired from the Portland Bureau of Police. If I resigned, the charges would be dropped. So I did."

Nicole could now see anger on faces of the members of Special Crimes Unit, Everett Backstrom, and Special Agent Baker. But it was not anger directed at her, but at what had happened to her.

Peter was the first to speak. "Did the public ever find out that you and Laura Walters were the same person?"

Nicole shook her head. "No, fortunately, they didn't. Laura Walters took the fall for me, and I got kicked out of Vice. At the time I thought ADA Kines had betrayed me."

"But he hadn't," John said speaking up. "He had done his best to protect you against a powerful adversary."

Nicole ducked her head again and then looked back at John. "Yes. And he paid for telling me about what he really did by ending up in the ICU in critical condition."

There was silence for a moment as everyone thought about that.

"Do you think that the 25th John is our serial killer?" Nadia finally asked.

Nicole looked directly at Agent Baker. "I did, but now I think that the 25th John is just using him or her to tie up his loose ends." Emily smiled at that admission.

"So we have two people we're after," John said summing up what they had just been told. The 25th John and our as yet unknown serial killer, what's our next step?"

"Our next step," Everett said getting up and moving toward Nicole, "is to find out what Amy Davis knew about our serial killer and the 25th John."

"A person like Amy must have had a diary," Emily Baker added.

"It wasn't found at the crime scene," Peter noted.

"That's because we weren't looking in the right places," The Head of the SCU replied succinctly. "With what Gravely has given us, now we know where to look."

Emily nodded. "Amy would have kept this hidden-afraid that the 25th John would try to steal it or destroy it. But Gravely can't be directly involved with any of this. Scone may be working with 25th John and if that's the case, we could all end up in trouble."

"So what is she going to be doing?" Nadia asked.

Everett looked at Nicole. "Gravely is going back undercover as Laura Renee Walters at Mademoiselle Faberge's with an eye toward finding our serial killer, while we go back to Lake Oswego and find Amy Davis' diary before Scone or 25th John find it."

"Won't Scone find out about Nicole, I mean, Laura, going back to Mademoiselle Faberge's?" Moto asked. It was a good, and obvious, question.

Backstrom nodded. "That's what we're counting on. And, for it to rattle him and the 25th John enough to get them to come out in the open."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Nadia replied. It was evident she was worried about Nicole.

Backstrom nodded again. "Yes, that's why Moto and Agent Baker will be there with her at Mademoiselle Faberge's as well."

Moto seemed unperturbed by this announcement, but Emily looked momentarily startled at that declaration.

"Now our biggest problem is getting Laura Renee Walters' backstopped background," a quickly recovering Emily added. "We'll need that to put this ruse into motion."

"What do you mean? You don't have it?" Nadia asked both Emily and Nicole at the same time, "Where is it?"

Nicole sighed, "It's the property of Detective Lieutenant Scone. It's stored on his personal computer which he almost never connects to the internet. Without it, this operation won't have a chance of getting off the ground."

"Are you sure he still has it?" Peter asked.

"Scone never got rid of it, as far as I know…" Nicole replied wistfully.

"Why?" Moto asked. It was another good question.

And Backstrom had the answer. "It has to do with his personality," he replied. "Though he thinks Gravely goofed things up, he still sees it as a trophy. One of his great accomplishments,"

"Then all we have to do is a get a copy from the original," Nadia replied smiling.

"How do we do that?" Moto asked. He didn't know why Nadia was smiling. It didn't sound so simple to him.

"Leave that to me," John replied.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

Nathan Lovejoy shook

his head. "John, I don't like this," he declared to his former partner. He had been lured to the SCU with information about a break in the Hill/Davis murder case. He didn't know that it entailed what John had just told him.

John Almond smiled at him. It was that easy going friendly preacher smile of his. "Nathan, it's really easy. All you have to do is plug in this SD card, into Scone's personal computer. Nadia will be there with you," he showed Nathan the electronic earwig as if to emphasize the point. "the whole time, I promise," he said reassuringly.

Nathan looked over a Nadia who nodded enthusiastically. But that did nothing to allay the homicide detective's fears.

"Why can't some member of your squad do this, John?" he asked while pushing his horn rimmed glasses back up on his nose.

At this comment, Everett threw up his hands in exasperation and groaned as he got up and began pacing. Emily reached out to still him. Nicole and Nadia mirrored his groans and looks. Moto shook his head and hissed disgustedly. Neidermayer scrubbed his face in frustration.

But Big John was his usual smooth, in-control self. "If Scone finds any of us are involved, he'll figure out what we're up to and we want to control when he finds out," he said honestly.

Nathan though, still wasn't on board. "What do I do if you I get caught?" His glasses had slid back down to the tip of his nose.

"Knowing you, Lovejoy, I'd cry," Everett said snarkily.

"Don't listen to him, Nathan. You're not going to get caught. Scone won't be in the office at the time. At worst, you'll run into the office custodian on her rounds," Nicole said as firmly as she could. The last thing she wanted was Backstrom chasing off their only possible chance at getting this data from Scone.

"What if she's on Scone's payroll?" Nathan persisted.

"Mikela has been with the Portland Bureau of Police for years and she cleans all the offices, man. Just tell her you needed to drop off something for Scone, she won't think twice about it," Moto offered. His words made sense. Mikela really didn't care who did what in the PPB, so she wouldn't question why Lovejoy was in Scone's office. That was above her pay grade.

Nathan though, still wasn't convinced. "I still don't like it," he said sourly to the group while pushing his glasses back up.

"That's because you're a worrywart, Lovejoy," Everett shot back disgustedly.

Emily gave the Head of SCU a cutting glare before getting up and grabbing the homicide detective by his shoulders and staring into his eyes. "Detective Lovejoy, listen to me. You can do this, I know you can."

"Y-You really think so?" Nathan said hopefully like he really wanted to believe he could do this. He pushed his glasses back up and smiled at her. It appealed to the man in him who wanted to be a hero. Skeller would certainly take notice of him then.

"I know so," Emily said with conviction while nodding and giving him a big sexy smile.

Everett Backstrom rolled his eyes and snorted. Both Nicole and Nadia slapped at him for his outburst.

 **To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Backstrom: You've Got to be Kidding Me - 5**

" **Well, that was fun!"** Agent Baker said as she stuck her head out from the covers at the foot of the bed. After that talk with Detective Lovejoy, she had decided that Everett needed some extracurricular activity to work out his tension – well, she did too, but that was a different kind of tension.

"Good…" Everett said mumbling from under the sheets still covering his head. "Because I think you broke something with all your wild cowgirl moves."

"Spoilsport!" Emily said playfully as she tossed a pillow back at him. "Are you saying you didn't have fun?"

Everett poked his head up from underneath the covers and looked at her. "I didn't say that. I'm just saying that you are wilder than I thought you would be."

She threw him a quizzical look. "What because I'm supposed to be this buttoned down FBI agent?"

Everett thought about that for a moment. "Well…yeah."

Emily giggled as she wiggled out from under the covers and headed to bathroom. "Just chalk it up to another myth shattered."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**  
 **  
John Almond** walked into SCU Squad room witha satisfied smile on his face. "I've got good news."

Nicole and Emily, who had until that moment been discussing whether or not the 25th should still be a person of interest in this case, turned and looked at John as did the rest of the crew, who were visibly relieved they wouldn't have to hear these two tearing away at each other for a moment.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's the good news, Detective Almond?" Emily asked feigning interest. She had gotten Nicole to agree to let her work with her in Mademoiselle Faberge's as her friend 'Brittany' and even more importantly, she thought she had just about convinced Nicole Gravely that including the 25th John in their pool of suspects was a waste of time. At least she thought it was.

John held up a tiny SD card. "Nathan got the backstopped background for Laura Renee Walters."

Nicole hopped out her chair and ran over to John as the others crowded around him. "When did he do it?" she said taking the card and holding it like it was a piece of gold.

"Last night," Big John replied. "Nadia talked him through it like a pro."

All heads in the room turned toward the civilian computer specialist, who appeared to turn three shades of red, each darker than the last. "I cannot take all the credit," she finally managed to say. She gave the SCU Forensic Specialist and John Almond a furtive smile. Now Peter began to blush.

"Sorry to break up this mutual admiration society, but we need to work fast before Scone figures out what we're up to," Everett said gruffly wanting to bring everyone back to task.

Nicole took a cue from his comment and hurried over to her workstation, plugging the SD card into the proper port. After a series of mouse clicks, a picture of a woman looking like Nicole when she appeared in the squad room last week, appeared on the screen, along with a brief biographical sketch.

Emily came over and read over her shoulder. "Laura Renee Walters. Age twenty-eight, from Clearport, Alabama . AKA Laurie R., AKA Laura Winsome, AKA Ellie Walters. -"

Nicole clicked open a few more files. "Here's her rap sheet, high school transcripts, credit card information, social security number, parent's address, addresses of known friends, relatives, and associates."

Nadia came over and looked at the wealth of information that was appearing on the screen as Nicole continued to scroll through it. "Wow, that is a lot of information for a cover."

Nicole nodded, understanding her awe. It was a lot to take in. "It had to be thorough and complete enough to convince everyone that I was her."

Frank Moto was confused. "But her parents and friends info?"

Nicole gave Frank a smirk. "Totally made up. If they had checked, the calls went to someone in Scone's unit already briefed on what to say."

"We'll need to do the same when you are undercover," John said. Everyone, including Emily, thought this was a good idea.

It was Everett who asked the million dollar question. "And what about the real Laura Renee Walters?"

Detective Gravely knew why he was asking this. Could she muck up their plan? "Still living near Clearport under an assumed name, according to the local police," she assured him.

"Why an assumed name?" Moto asked, curious about this qualifier.

It was a good question. "She wanted a chance at a new life after being arrested, so when the Clearport PD offered her the chance to 'disappear' in return for using her former identity, she jumped at it," Nicole replied.

Everett had heard enough. He turned to the uniformed Portland Bureau of Police officer. "You still go out on patrol?"

Moto was initially caught off guard by his query but quickly recovered. "Occasionally—just to keep my toes in the water—or when they're short."

The Detective Lieutenant nodded. He liked what he heard. "Good. I want you to arrest Gravely."

Everyone, including Emily and Nicole, gave him a shocked look. He gave them all an annoyed look for taking him so literally. "Relax, I meant her as Laura Walters. Now here's my plan….

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **"Okay,** Moto, make it look good," the Head of the SCU said in the PPB officer's ear.

Nicole was listening to Molly Hatchet's "Flirting with Disaster" as she tore past Frank Moto at well over 90 miles per hour.

Moto chuckled and shook his head. Nicole was playing little 'Miss Wild Child' to the hilt. He flipped on his lights and pulled out of the parking lot rapidly picking up speed as his special pursuit package Ford engine helped him to quickly catch up with Nicole Gravely's blue Dodge Charger.

"5702 Traffic," Moto reported as he whooped the siren at her. For her part, Nicole played the flustered female who quickly pulled over to side of the road.

'5702 Roger,' the dispatcher replied as Moto and Gravely put their cars in park.

Moto got out of his car, all smiles. This wasn't because he pulled over Nicole Gravely. No, when he had been in the Traffic Unit he had always approached someone he had pulled over with easy going attitude and a smile. Most of the time it had worked and person readily admitted that they had violated the law. But there were others where this friendly attitude only served to stoke their anger or indignation. Moto wondered which Gravely was going to use on him. It didn't help that he was going to have to be so formal with her, but the body camera dictated that he should.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. May I see your driver's license and proof of insurance, please?"

Nicole quickly fumbled through a full purse, not bothering to look up at the officer. "Oh, I am so sorry, Officer. I was late for an appointment and-"

Moto continued smiling and nodded his head in sympathy. "I've been late too sometimes. Where were you headed, Miss?"

This time Nicole looked up and saw Frank Moto standing in front of her. "Frank! Thank God it's you, honey, I'm in a real jam," she began explaining quickly "I was headed to Smith and Johnson on Bolyston Street- She stopped her explanation when she noticed he was removing his ticket book from his back pocket flap. "Are you going to give me a warning?" she asked nervously.

 _Okay, here we go…_ Moto became all business. "The reason I stopped you was because I clocked you doing a little over 90 miles per hour, Ms. Walters-91 to be exact."

By now cars were starting to slow as they passed to see if they knew the person that had been pulled over.

 _Time for the incredulous act…_ Nicole flared her eyes wide in surprise. "91? Really? C'mon Frank, can't you just let this slide? I really am sorry. Honest I am. I'm late for my appointment and I guess I got carried away listening to my music. Couldn't you just give me a warning? I promise to be more careful." She finished with a soulful look. Moto could now understand how Nicole Gravely was able to pass herself off as this prostitute Laura Renee Walters- she was that good. Very good.

Moto's smile froze as he became all business. "I'm sorry, Laura, but you were doing at least 45 miles per hour over the posted speed limit. I can't look the other way on that. I gotta write you a ticket. Now if you could just wait in the car for me, I'll be right back."

Moto walked back to his cruiser and sat down and pretended to run her license plate and her personal information. When in fact, he had Laura Renee Walter's rap sheet sitting next to him.

Moto made an effort to look like he was finishing up his radio call and then got out of the cruiser and headed back to Gravely's car.

"Laura, I need you to step out of the car."

"Why? What for? What have I done, Frank?" Nicole said in whiny voice as she got out of the car. She sounded like every perp they had ever busted when they were on the beat.

"Ms. Walters, I have warrant for your arrest. Please turn around and put your hands behind you."

"Please you have to let me go, Frank. If I don't make this appointment I won't get this job!"

Moto gave her a pained look. "Girl, would you rather be caught by some bounty hunter? Just turn around and let me do my job."

Moto began reading her the Miranda warning. Nicole didn't resist, but then she didn't need to draw a crowd. Several cars had now slowed and a group of people were watching from across the street.

As Moto put the handcuffs on her, he glanced over and saw a television news crew taking a decided interest in what was going on. He smiled and tightened to cuffs around her wrists. "Looks like we're on candid camera," he whispered to Nicole, and then when she glanced over at the mobile news truck, he said in a louder voice. "Do you understand each of these rights I have read to you? Those aren't too tight, are they, Ms. Walters?"

"I hate you, Frank," she shot back, totally in character.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Emily** was looking through a rack of clothes, trying to decide what would look best on her and at the same time help her fit in at Mademoiselle Faberge's. She didn't want to look too slutty, but at the same time, she was going to be a call girl. _Okay, maybe a little slutty…_ she thought as she flipped through the clothes hung up on the rack. It was a rather impressive set of slacks, short shorts, jean shorts, halter tops, skirts, jeans, baby t-shirts, yoga pants, all picked for a woman posing as a lady of the night. She noticed the sizes arranged small to large and wondered if Nicole had picked anything out from this selection.

"See anything you like?"

She turned and saw Everett Backstorm standing there watching her. His face showed mild surprise at her expression.

Her initial scowl softened. "Sorry, you startled me."

"Deep in thought about what to wear as Tiffany, eh?"

It's Brittany, and I gotta balance the slutty look with sophistication, not an easy task," she held her tongue about how she thought it might be easier for Nicole. She didn't want to cast negative aspirations on her just because she insisted on that 25th John character being included in the list of suspects.

"Sorry, Brittany, you're right and I'm sure you'll be able to balance it just fine," Everett replied.

She looked at him with a saucy smile. "Would ya like me to model for you? You know, so I can make sure I'm getting it right." She was pretty sure she was poking a hole in her cheek with that comment.

Everett's grin turned wolfish. "I'd like nothing more, you know, so you get it right."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **The next day, Nadia Paquet** was doing an internet search for information about Alyssa and Yuri Timshenko. Her petite hands sailed across her keyboard as images, maps and web pages flew onto the screen. When she saw something she thought would be useful to Nicole and Agent Baker, she right clicked and saved it into a file labeled 'MF Timshenko'.

The file was getting quite large, she smirked at the thought of so much of the information they needed being freely available on the web. _This file ought to really help—_

Suddenly she froze, hands in mid-keystroke. Her eyes widened as she recognized the man in the photograph getting into a late model Lincoln Continental that had just popped onto her screen. _Mon Dieu! Non! It cannot be!_

She double-clicked and opened a .PDF document that was attached to this photograph. No, there was no mistake. It was Oral Yomanovich, the man who had made her life miserable for ten long years before she was able get enough money together to flee New York, first to St. Louis, and then to Portland. Part of her still felt the pain of leaving her friends- good friends-behind, but there was nothing she could do to save them. She had to save herself and so she did.

She quickly closed the .PDF document, wondering if her opening that had sent a signal to him about where she was. It was not impossible. Oral was very cunning and had many resources at his disposal including several black hat hackers. She immediately began erasing her search history and moving the MF Timshenko file to a memory key. Once that was completed, she severed the network connection - -temporarily- -and virus scanned the Timshenko folder and anxiously awaited the results.

After agonizing minutes, the malware checker gave the memory key a clean bill of health. Nadia loudly exhaled the breath she had been holding. As she started to pull the memory key from the computer-

"Hey, Nadia, what are you doing?"

The shock of the sudden voice behind her caused her to flip the memory key out of her hands and into the air before it landed on the floor behind her. Nadia felt herself go cold as she did when Oral used to touch her.

"Whoa there, sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Working hard were you? In the zone as it were?" Peter said apologetically as he bent down to pick up the memory key.

"Peter! Mon Dieu! Ne faites pas cela! _Do not do that!" she snapped at him.

Peter held up his hands in surrender. "Easy, Nadia, I'm just picking up the USB drive I made you drop! See? That's all, nothing else."

The SCU Forensic Specialist could see that PPB civilian administrator was badly shaken, by what, he didn't know. Right now he had to show that he wasn't a threat. "Look. See? I'm putting it down right here next to you, okay?"

Nadia nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "Je suis désolé_I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Peter squatted down next to her to present a less threatening image. "Are you okay?" he asked now clearly concerned. First anger, now tears, whatever she was looking at had really upset her.

She sniffled. "I am fine. I found some disturbing images on the web while doing research for  
Nicole and Agent Baker, and I got so, how you say, caught up in my work, that you frightened me."

"Well, I sincerely apologize for that. I hope this puts things right between us and hope this helps restore our feelings toward each other."

She gave him a watery smile as she put a hand to his face. "Oh, Peter, Mon Amour, you just scared me, that is all. I am fine, really."

"Okay, I'm glad to hear that," he said smiling. Meanwhile in the back of his mind he thought about that memory key and what might be on it that had upset her so. He was determined to find out what that was.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Everett** looked up and smiled at the FBI Agent as she came into his office. "Emily, what brings you to my office this morning?" he said cheerily. He was feeling pretty good now about Emily, and the late night romps haven't diminished his opinion of her, in fact he was becoming quite enamored of her. Especially after that intimate private showing she had given him of her 'Brittany collection'. And now here she was wearing another hot number.

"Everett, we need to talk," Emily said in serious tone as she turned and closed the door to his office.

Everett was having a hard time taking her seriously. After all, Emily was dressed in one of her 'Brittany outfits' and that did little to make him pay attention to her facial expression. "Oh, is it something serious? What did I did I do?" he implied while wiggling his eyebrows thinking this was another one of her come-ons.

Emily looked down at what she was wearing and then back at him with an annoyed look. At herself mostly for putting this outfit on and then marching in here. "Not you, your Detective Sergeant Gravely," she said curtly, hoping to get his mind off her body and on what she considered was more important at the moment. Any other time would have been pleased to get this reaction from him. But not right now. Dammit, she should have changed before charging in here….

"You two aren't getting along, are you?" Everett asked glibly. He knew there had been sparks between the two of them. For some reason, he kind of enjoyed that.

Emily gave him an exasperated sigh. Why was it men were always so dense? "Everett, she's impeding this case, our case, …and she's really got this fantasy fixation about her 25th John being involved in these killings-"

Everett held up his hand to stop her tirade. "Well, not to pour cold water on your theory, Emily, but that 25th John is involved somehow, maybe not in the actually killings, but he is involved," he said in a sage manner.

Emily gave him a perturbed look. "What do you mean?" He was supposed to be putty in her hands. What was going on?

Backstrom spelled it out for the scantily clad FBI agent. "Gravely's 25th John was involved with both Michael Hill and Amy Davis, remember? And Gravely told me the 25th John had told Evan Scone, head of Vice, to get Gravely's prostitution sting operation shut down. Scone forced Kines to reveal Gravely-"

Emily's eyes widened. "Kines, as in Assistant District Attorney Steven Kines? What did Scone have on him?! I thought this was all the 25th John's doing!" _OMG! She was right! The 25_ _th_ _John could be involved! How could I be so blind?!_

Everett couldn't believe someone so like her had missed this. Maybe it was because she was like Captain Ahab hunting her Moby Dick. "It wasn't what Scone had on him. It's what Scone had on Gravely and the 25th John had on Kines."

That revelation hit her like bowling ball smacking into a ten pin. "Everett, I didn't know-" she stammered. In her race to dismiss Nicole Gravely's ideas, she had failed to consider that this 25th John might be a very dangerous person and very much involved in this whole situation.

"Well, you didn't ask," Everett shot back realizing now that Emily hadn't come here to seduce him. She had come here to get Gravely off the case. That was a big mistake.

But Emily now was quickly backpedaling, realizing her blunder. "Everett, I'm sorry, I-"

"Well, just for future reference, remember my team comes first, got it? That includes Gravely," Everett said sternly. Emily may be cute and smart, but when it came to hunting down bad guys, she had a dangerous obsessive streak that could torpedo their joint investigation, and he had to put a stop to that right now.

Emily now realized she had way overstepped her bounds. She didn't want to mess this up and more importantly she didn't want to destroy this thing she had with the Head of Portland Bureau of Police's Special Crime Unit. "All right…look, I want to make up for this. Are you sure about Scone?"

Everett was still irritated with her. "It's what Gravely told me. That's all we have to go on right now," he said coldly.

She ignored his anger. They had bigger fish to fry right now. Patching up their relationship would have to wait. "Well, first we gotta get more concrete evidence on Scone. You said that Amy Davis was involved with the 25th John?"

"That's what she said, remember?" Everett said his voice a little less harsh.

"Are you thinking that Davis and 25th John were involved with Scone as well?" Emily inquired. Everett and Gravely had obviously talked more about this part of the case than she had with him. Maybe that was because she was so focused on catching this killer.

"Putting myself in Scone's mind, which I really hate doing, by the way, that's the conclusion I'm coming to," he replied.

There's the common thread. "Well, if you believe it, then I do too. We need to go back out to the crime scene and find out if Amy left anything behind that might help us."

"You mean like a diary?" Everett suggested going back to what Emily had said earlier in the bullpen. Of course Amy had kept a diary-that would be just like her…but where?

Now they were back on track. "Yeah, exactly," Emily said smiling.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Gregory Valentine** had spent two hours with Doris after she had gotten off her shift. She was cute and funny, but not his type. He let her down easy. He could see his 'Backstrom/Hulk persona' had turned her on, and though she was disappointed he didn't feel the same way, he promised to introduce her to his friend Tom who he swore would definitely be interested in her.

She tried to see if his actions were just smokescreen, but Greg assured her that they weren't, and while he was flattered, he just didn't swing that way.

But he assured her that Tom did. That seemed to placate her a bit. What Greg knew was that Tom was a former Special Forces, and his quiet persona that could burst into action if provoked would be enough to make her think 'Greg Who?'

As he walked back to boat that he and Everett shared he looked at his watch. It was nearly 5:30, a little early to go clubbing, but truthfully all that talk with Doris got him thinking about going out and hitting the town.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **The judge** on the bench gave Nicole/Laura a non-plussed look. Even he didn't recognize her as he read the charges to her. "Ms. Walters, you are charged with speeding and Failure to Appear for missing your court date on 1 October 2017. Bond has been set at $1000.00 dollars." He banged the gavel. "Next case, bailiff."

Nicole was stunned by what she was just told as the court officer lead her back to the receiving area. $1,000! She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. "Do I get to make a phone call?" she asked the court officer who was escorting her.

The officer was young one, probably his first week on job. "Yes ma'am, right over there to left. Just pick up the receiver and give them the number you are trying to call."

Nicole shuffled as best she could in her jail coveralls and ankle bracelets over to the phone and picked up the receiver. "555-2721 please," The dial tone was quickly replaced by a sequence of numbers being punched. Then there was click and the line began to ring. It only rang twice before someone on the other end picked up. She didn't wait for the voice to speak.

"Shonda? This is Laura. They got me on a FTA and speeding. Can you come down? Thanks, I owe you, bye."

Within an hour Emily Baker waltzed into Central Receiving with a teased out platinum blonde hair-do, a flashy short green dress, alligator pumps, and cracking and popping chewing gum.

"I'm here for Ms. Walters," she said as she snapped and cracked her gum at the desk Sergeant.

The desk Sergeant didn't look up from his paperwork. "Your name?" he said brusquely.

Emily cleared her throat then continued chewing her gum. "Shonda, Shonda A. Fitzgerald, A-1 Bondsmen."

He cut eyes at her before looking at his desk terminal. "Have a seat, Ms. Fitzgerald. We'll be right with you," he said in a neutral voice.

As Emily sat down and crossed her legs, letting her skirt ride up a little, the Sergeant motioned to nearby officer. "Go get Laura Walters. Her bail bonds-person is here."

The officer took a long look at Emily and then at the desk Sergeant and nodded.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Nicole's** eyes flared at the transformation of FBI Special Agent Emily Baker. "Shonda! New hair-do?" she exclaimed with an excited squeal.

FBI agent Baker gave Nicole a shark-like grin. "I hadda try somethin' new," she said with a decidedly New York accent. "So, will a thousand will get you out?"

"They also got me on that prostitution charge," Nicole added in a surly tone.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Cheeze Louise, Sugar! Did they look up the time you stole cookies from your grandma?" she groused good naturedly at 'Laura'.

Nicole played along. Whatever else Emily was, she was a good undercover person—at least in this case. "No, they left that out. Look, Shonda, this is serious. This guy Backstrom's supposed to be protecting me, and him and that goody-goody, Saint Gravely, and yet here I am!"

Emily cocked her head like a dog listening to dog whistle, "So, whattya sayin' ta me, Laura?"

Nicole gave her a frustrated look. "I'm sayin' I want out, scot free. I've been their informant long enough, don't ya think?" Nicole emphasized the last part loud enough for everyone in Central Receiving to hear it. A few heads turned at that comment.

Emily winked telling her 'good job' and began nodding and patting her handcuffed hands. "I'll see what I can do, hon…"

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **"Is this for real?"** Evan Scone said as he finished his corned beef sandwich and chased it down with his favorite energy drink. He tossed the photo back to the court officer.

The court officer blanched. He was beginning to wonder why he had come up here in the first place and why he had agreed to be 'eyes and ears' for Scone [as a side job] he'd never know. "She said her name was Laura Renee Walters. I heard her say it myself," he said defensively.

Evan shook his head in disbelief. "This has gotta be some kind of the joke. The only Laura Renee Walters there ever was, was a cover used by Detective Sergeant Nicole Gravely when she was working for me in Vice." He looked more closely at the photo. "That can't be her," Evan seemed to grumble to himself. "Why would she run around in that get up?"

The court officer shrugged. "Hey, I'm only reporting what I saw. What you do with the information is up to you. I've done what you asked."

"So that's all I'm getting from you?" Evan Scone growled. _This guy is worthless…_

When the court official didn't say anything in response, he looked over at his lead Detective Sergeant, Sal Krustiak. "Sal! Get down to Backstrom's unit, find out what the hell is going on."

Sal nodded as he got up. "You got it." He headed out of the Vice bullpen, brushing the shoulder of the court officer.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Nicole** was weaving in and out of traffic, not too fast because she didn't want to attract another police officer, since they wouldn't be in on what was going on.

Her car stereo was up as loud as it would go and she was lost in the music, singing along with it. Someone had once told her Pat Benatar did that as well. She didn't know if her voice was that good, but then again, she wasn't Nicole Gravely right now, she was Laura Renee Walters, and Laura loved her music and loved it loud. Not base thumping loud, just loud.

Truthfully, she had missed 'Ole Blue' and the feeling of this powerful muscle car as she drove it. It reminded her of when she and Steven had first gotten together. He had been the one who spotted her in the impound lot and told her it was perfect for her cover. And though she didn't know if she'd get back together with Steven, the car represented something else to her – freedom.

Something she realized had been missing from her life. Did she feel trapped? Yes, in a way. After Scone had kicked her out of Vice, she had seriously thought about resigning, but couldn't stand the look she knew she would receive from her dad, a thirty-year veteran with Oregon State Police. Daddy would have never accepted her running away like that. 'Gravelys don't quit' he'd tell her in that gravelly voice of his, then he'd tell her to get back there and take her punishment 'like an adult' She knew he wanted to say 'like a man' but he had long since come to terms with the fact that his number one 'son' was a daughter -but that didn't mean he cut her any slack.

She was stunned beyond belief when PPB Chief Cervantes called her into her office and told her she had a position for her – if she wanted it. Nicole thought it was going to be that open slot in the Traffic Division until she started talking about a new unit that she and police force pariah, Detective Lieutenant Everett Backstrom, had formed and would she be interested in being assigned to the unit?

Nicole admitted to herself that she could have been more enthusiastic – it wasn't the force's 'Siberia' posting and she wasn't being stuck in Traffic. Still it was with that eccentric Everett Backstrom. The Chief could tell Nicole was on the fence and was about to say something to her when big, friendly John Almond, a legend in the Portland Police Bureau, walked in. John was there to get the Chief to sign off on the transfer of Forensic Specialist Peter Neidermayer to the SCU when he turned and smiled at her. 'We'd sure like to have you in our unit, Detective Gravely'. That was all it took. The chance to work with The John Almond – pass that up?

No. Freakin'. Way.

She and John left the office together with Chief watching them, a look of satisfaction on the PPB Chief's face. Little did she know at that time that one of her jobs was to make sure Backstrom's vices didn't torpedo their cases, but that didn't matter to Nicole at the moment. She wanted to soak up everything she could learn from John Almond, and if she had to schlep for Everett Backstrom to do it, so be it.

Now her thoughts came whirling back to the present. She was going to get a chance to prove that she'd been doing that right thing. Her time at SCU had been a definite plus for her. Turned out John and Everett Backstrom were top notch mentors, and she had friends and confidants in Nadia, Peter, and Moto that helped her when things got rough. With her new skills, just maybe, she could nail the 25th John and help find this serial killer at the same time.

Several people looked over at the 1970 Blue Dodge Charger R/T 440 Hardtop blaring _"China Grove"_ as it wheeled into parking lot. As soon as her engine was off, sunglasses wearing Laura, wearing a saucy, tight, off one shoulder midnight blue wrap dress hopped out of the car without pausing to lock it and clip-clopped across the parking lot to the entrance of the dance club.

Nicole walked up to the ticket booth built-into the side of the building. "Hi, Laura Walters. I'm here for my two o'clock appointment with Ms. Timshenko," she said to the girl in ticket booth, giving her a pleasant smile.

The girl in the ticket booth, a striking brunette smiled politely at Nicole. "Yes, Ms. Walters, we've been expecting you. Please wait over there by the door and I'll buzz you in."

Nicole gave 'Desiree', at least that was the name stenciled on the nameplate attached to her blouse, a bright sunny smile. "Thank you."

Nicole walked over to the door beside the booth. Five years and it still looked the same. The building that housed Mademoiselle Faberge's night club [and escort service] had been once been a darling upscale department store of 1960's downtown Portland. When the energy crunch in the mid 1970's forced the store to close, it was bought by Alyssa Timshenko, a young wealthy Ukrainian immigrant and her dashing husband, Yuri Timshenko, known to police for being part of the growing East Coast Russian Mafiya. When the Ukraine declared its independence, Yuri and his blushing young bride decided to declare their own independence in the early nineties and head for the west coast.

The door buzzed as promised, and Nicole looked up to see a video camera staring back at her from behind the glass above the doorway. Ignoring the fact it was recording her every move, she pulled the door open and walked in. Compared to the late fall humidity outside, it was cool and dry inside. Nicole could hear dancers on the stage practicing their numbers and members of a traveling play group going over their lines.

To the left was the entrance to the club's bar. Sitting at the bar waiting for her was a tall slender man, wearing a black bowler hat and part of a tuxedo. He looked up and gave her a boyish smile. "You must be Laura. I'm Jon Provoloka," he said as he held out his hand to her.

Nicole immediately took the offered hand and shook it. A pre-screening. Firm grip. "Pleasure to meet you," Nicole replied with that pleasant smile she had used on Desiree.

Jon offered her a chair next to his at the bar which she quickly took. "So tell me a little about yourself, Ms. Walters. I wasn't here the last time you worked for Mademoiselle Faberge."

Nicole sat on the barstool. "Well, first off, since you have probably already looked up my rap sheet, you know I've not done anything hard. Mostly misdemeanors. I'm drug free, I don't have a pimp, and I'm no longer associated with the Portland Bureau of Police."

Jon smirked at her. "We still require a drug test, but the other information volunteered is appreciated," he said making a notation on the sheet he had laying on the bar along with several other papers.

Nicole could tell that though Jon was slender, some might say slight, there was a hardness to him not only in his body, but also in his manner that was a subtle reminder not to mess with him or get on his bad side.

He looked up from his sheets at her. "So tell me about the last time you worked here."

Nicole nodded and then gave Jon a slightly embarrassed look. "Last time I was here, I was a confidential informant for the police. They had agreed to look the other way on certain charges if I worked with their Vice unit," she explained to him.

Jon nodded. "That would be Detective Lieutenant Evan Scone," he said with some distaste.

Nicole mirrored his disgust. "And a female detective, Nicole Gravely. They picked me because with the right hair and makeup, I look just like her. Yeah, it was lame, but just maybe it would work…"

"So you spied for them?" Jon asked her bluntly dropping all pretense of friendliness.

"Someone was trying to turn this place into a brothel," she explained hastily. "My job was find the girls who had been turned, expose them and their johns who were part of the infiltration."

"And Portland Bureau of Police did this out of the goodness of their hearts?" Jon said sarcastically.

Nicole was ready for this harsh judgment. After all, no one likes a stoolie. "Ms. Timshenko, I was told, despite the gray area of her escort service, was looked upon kindly by the Portland community. The job they gave me was to find the bad apples," she explained. While it told him what she had done and why she had done it, it didn't mean that Jon would give her a seal of approval.

Jon looked at her for a moment as if trying to see if see if she was lying. "But someone exposed you," he said.

Nicole gave him another disgusted look. "The media got it wrong. Said I was that cop, Gravely, and that I had been pulling an undercover operation to arrest Johns. The Assistant District Attorney admitted on television this was true and I was sacrificed, while my cop doppelganger was shuffled off to another unit in the department. They said I was Gravely-and I took the fall."

Jon seemed to take that statement at face value. "Then what did you do?"

Nicole shrugged as if it didn't matter. "What could I do? I was damaged goods. I worked for Gravely and her new boss, mostly schlepping around stuff for them." It was dangerous lie, but if it was bought, it would explain her whereabouts for the past few years and better than the standard 'I was laying low' line.

"So what are you doing now?" he asked.

"It's been two years, so I figure the media is off chasing other, more important things, and the department has agreed I've done my public service, so I am free to go back to what I was doing."

"Which was?" Jon prompted.

"Working in an escort service," Nicole said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. That was what she was applying for.

Jon gave her a hard look. "And why do you think we should give you another chance here? What's to keep you from turning informant again? Or are you actually working undercover for them right now?"

That was the single most important question at the moment, wasn't it? Now it was time to see if this ruse would really work. Nicole sat up straighter in her chair and looked Jon in the eyes.

"Well, if you want to check me for a wire, feel free. You can also check all my stuff, which I know you will, and you'll see I'm clean." There, gauntlet thrown down. Now to add the kicker. "Truthfully, I'm here because I liked being an escort for Ms. Timshenko-there aren't that many places in Portland where you can specialize in a true 'girlfriend experience' and not be expected to do something else on the side."

Hopefully that would appeal to Jon, and especially to Ms. Timshenko, since they claimed to run a legitimate business.

Jon made another note on his papers and then looked at her again. "That's your specialty?"

 _Okay, Gravely, this one is for all the chips…._ "Uh huh, I'm the girl next door," she said nodding, on her face a serious expression. "I'm that first date you had in high school or junior high or the first girl that was your steady. I know what they want and I want the same. It's not all Hallmark stuff, but I'm also not 'Debbie Does Dallas.'"

"Or 'Best Little Whorehouse,'" Jon added with a friendly smile. Now it was his turn to throw a curve ball. "...any problem doing this for both sexes?"

Nicole shook her head, getting deeper into her character. "No. I mean my preference is for guys, but times change, and ya gotta keep up with the changes…." she ended that comment with a smile.

Jon gathered up his papers as he nodded. "All right, Laura, I'm going to send you down to the stage where Dom will give you some stage hand work. Nothing too strenuous, just something to keep you busy while you wait. It'll make the time go faster. I'll come by and let you know when Ms. Timshenko can talk with you."

Okay, first hurdle passed. Nicole stood and shook Jon's hand. "I appreciate the work and opportunity, Mr. Provoloka."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **It was late** and Peter had begged off from a date with Nadia saying he had work in the office to finish up. She offered to help, but he had insisted he needed to do this himself. She was disappointed at first, but he assured her he would come over to her place as soon as he was done and she smiled and accepted that.

Now he was back in the darkened SCU bullpen searching around Nadia's desk for that memory key. Hopefully she had not given it to Nicole or Agent Baker yet. Sure, he could search their desks, but he'd rather not have to—just in case one of them showed up. When Mikela saw what he was doing, she didn't say anything – first Nathan Lovejoy, now Peter Neidermayer- these people did a lot of snooping in other people's computers…

 _Aha! There it is!_ Peter discovered she had put it in an envelope in her desk. He took the envelope back to his desk and taking out the memory key, plugged it into his waiting computer. It took a moment for the file to open but when it did – it revealed a plethora of pictures, web pages, diagrams as well as several PDF documents. Rather than letting everyone on the department net know what he was doing he disconnected his machine from the web and opened the web files. It was information on the Timshenkos, their past lives on the East Coast, their Mafiya connections, Yuri's death, the opening of Mademoiselle Fabrege's and something else.

A grainy photo of a late model Lincoln Continental, circa 2002. Peter looked at the men getting into the car, there was nothing unusual about them, they looked like typical East Coast tough types but there was nothing to tie to the Timshenkos. Why had Nadia put this in here? Then he noticed the link attached to the photo. When he clicked on it, a PDF document popped open over the photo. It was a report from the NYPD Organized Crime Unit about Russian mob figure, Oral Yomanovich and his business dealings in Manhattan and the Bronx. Peter studied the NYPD OCU surveillance photos. _Wait a minute, this guy Yomanovich looks like the same guy in the photo that was by itself in this file – is this what scared Nadia so?_ He was about to go back to the car photo when another picture in the OCU document caught his eye.

A picture of a group of people, preparing for party of some sort. And there, standing next to Yomanovich was Nadia!

 _Oh my God Nadia! What did you get yourself into?!_

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Alyssa Timshenko** sat at her desk with a faint smile on her face as she looked at Jon Provoloka's report on their latest hire—make that re-hire. As per usual, Jon had expressed his misgivings about the new hire in his report, but also the positives about her.

 _No booze or drug problems…_ that's good – that made her less susceptible to temptation and blackmail.

 _No outstanding problems with law enforcement other than her 'Failure to Appear' and her speeding charge_. Alyssa knew the new hire's legal problems stemmed from cash flow problems, and those would disappear once she had a steady source of income.

The minuses – she had been employed here before, which meant she had a reputation of sorts.

Her dalliance with law enforcement which had forced her to become a confidential informant (CI) –and that made her damaged goods.

Her boyfriend was an irregular MMA fighter when he wasn't working for Special Crimes Unit of Everett Backstrom…

And then there was her strange sister-like relationship with Backstrom's minder, Nicole Gravely.

Alyssa wondered if there was something more to this almost symbiotic relationship with Detective Sergeant Gravely. Rumor had it that her new hire had been Gravely's CI when she worked for Scone, but that all ended abruptly (as did this person's employment at Mademoiselle Faberge's) when Assistant District Attorney Steven Kines announced what Gravely's CI had really been doing. After that, she and Gravely sort of disappeared into the PPB woodwork until Gravely showed up working with Everett Backstrom.

Good ole Everett. Nothing really that she had to ever worry about, that is unless there was a murder committed here, and Jon made sure that didn't happen. But she and her club had…let's say indirectly benefited, from Everett's vices. Still, she didn't use that against him. Everett acknowledged that Alyssa's club was doing some good and that tacit acceptance was enough for her. It was Evan Scone that she worried about – it was obvious he wanted to bring Alyssa down, so she had to be extra careful about whom she hired. She looked at the portrait of her husband, Yuri, on her desk next to her desk pad and calendar. All this had been Yuri's dream and she wasn't going to let a power-hungry cop destroy what she and Yuri had built.

Yuri and Alyssa had been a dynamitehusband and wife team when they first arrived here, and despite whispered words about a brothel being set up in the old department store, they made it clear that the club's goal first and foremost was to bring a little of the 'East Coast Broadway scene' to Portland. Big name acts were secured and local talent was recruited, but Yuri and Alyssa couldn't shake their Mafiya past. However, Alyssa was determined to have it be a high class operation. The girls would be well schooled in etiquette and all social manners and graces. They would be taught sports, eat right, exercise, attend school, get degrees, in other words be the perfect social companion for social engagements. Alyssa liked being a doting foster mother to those orphans they took in. Sex was an option, not a requirement, and that didn't sit well with other establishments in the city, not mention the fact that clients were flocking to Mademoiselle Faberge's and more than a few were taking advantage of the escort services offered, that included Everett Backstrom, at least until he went on the wagon.

Presently she heard a soft knock on her door. Alyssa stopped her reminiscing and looked up. "Come in," she said pleasantly while smiling at the dark haired woman shyly entering her office.

"Ms. Timshenko," she said in deference, almost bowing.

Alyssa now was the one embarrassed. "Come, child, sit down," she said motioning to the chair in front of her desk. "How are you, Laura?"

Laura, aka Nicole Gravely, gave Alyssa Timshenko a tentative smile. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Alyssa got up from behind her desk and walked over to Laura and sat down next to her.

Nicole knew she was in her late sixties, but Alyssa was still very fit and trim - the body and face of a woman twenty years younger, thanks to good genes, exercise, a good diet, and taking care of herself. Nicole acted the part of shy Laura who was really only comfortable when she was making others comfortable – now was not one of those times.

"Laura, please, do not, as you Americans like to say, 'put up a front' for me. I know your financial situation and I know why you are back here."

"Good news travels fast," Laura quipped trying to sound jocular, but it came out sounded nervous and disjointed.

Alyssa smiled again at Laura. "Jon told me he liked you, and that's a good thing."

"Thank you," Laura said with obvious relief in her voice. For more than one reason.

"But there is the matter of your association with the Portland Bureau of Police, in particular your relationship with Frank Moto, one of Everett Backstrom's people. So tell me, are you now a CI for him and if so, why do you want to work here again?"

Laura sighed. "Yes, Frank is my boyfriend-but it has nothing to do with any case Detective Lieutenant Backstrom is working on. We just…hit it off. It's not all hearts and flowers, but he does care. As for being a CI, I'm done with that—they kicked me loose. I really need to get my life back on track and you were good to me while I was here."

"Even if you were here under false pretenses," Alyssa said finishing the sentence, causing Laura to look away from her.

Alyssa looked at young woman with sympathy. "It's okay, Laura, I do understand. You were trying to do a good thing, and for that I thank you."

Nicole looked at Alyssa with genuine relief slipping through her façade. "You mean you knew?" She wondered for a moment just how much Alyssa really knew. Was this charade all for nothing? Had Alyssa figured out who she really was?

There was anger mixed with sympathy in her voice. "Not immediately, but I have friends at PPB, and I learned what you and Detective Gravely had been doing. I felt sorry for you and the Detective. That is just like Scone to throw away anyone that isn't giving him what he wants."

 _Whew!_ For now she was being accepted as Laura. "So…so do you think it's possible that I…I could work…for you? I would really appreciate it."

Alyssa smiled at Laura again. You can, Larisa, but," the owner and operator of Mademoiselle Faberge picked up a pretty Matryoshka nesting doll from her desk and handed it to her. "but like little Anushka here, you are going to have to become a different person than you were when you were here last time."

Nicole started. "But the 'Girlfriend experience' is what I do best-"

Alyssa put her hand on Nicole's shoulder to calm her. "Larisa, I do not mean taking you down that particular path, I mean a different name rather than Laura Walters. And, I want you promise me, you will give my clients the "real" girlfriend experience. These men are not normally looking for sex…that they can get from any common street walker. What they are looking for is that magical time when they met a girl they liked and enjoyed being with and the girl felt the same. The danger is this kind of work is that it messes with emotions and can lead to complications if not handled properly-you must be the girlfriend that they want, but nothing more and that is the real trick."

Nicole nodded. That was different from the last time. Then she was a prostitute with a kind heart. Here Alyssa was asking her to become that real 'first girlfriend' to these clients. Not to lead to a roll in the hay, but something short of that. Nicole wondered if emotions on both sides might get carried away. Still, it was a perfect cover for her while she looked for Amy and Michael's killer and maybe even bump into her 25th John again.

She couldn't pass this up.

"As I told Mr. Provoloka downstairs, I'm the girl next door," Nicole said nodding. "I'm that first date you had in high school or junior high or the first girl that was your steady. I know what they want and I want the same." She looked directly at Alyssa for the first time. "I can do this Ms. Timshenko, I want to do this."

Alyssa smiled brightly and she reached over and hugged Laura, "Welcome home, Larisa," she said quietly to her.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Nicole** stood looking into her mirror at the black haired woman staring back at her. Laura Winsome. Kind of a play on her 'personality'. Laura Renee Walters was the girl next door - Betty Cooper, Mary Ann Summers, Jan Brady, Joanie Cunningham-pretty, but not a wildcat, unlike some of the other ladies in this establishment.

Could she pull this off? Her makeup, thanks to many hours spent with a high school friend years ago, trying different make-up schemes to impress the boys, gave her a look that would never let anyone suspect it was her. When she had been Laura last time, more of her had shined through. Not this time, if Scone figured out who she was before they wanted him too—she tried not to think about that.

She gave herself one more hard look in the mirror. Red Gingham shirt with a bare mid-riff, good fitting blue jeans, sensible flats. Okay, good. She walked over toward her bed when there was a knock at her door. "Just a minute, she said, grabbing her purse and going to the door. When she opened it there stood Midori Hyswa, better known as Moppet. The petite Japanese girl was wearing, what could best be described as a Sailor Moon outfit, practically squealed with excitement when she saw Laura was wearing.

"Wow, Laura! You look just like Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island! Are you going on a boat ride?"

Nicole gave her excitable new friend a soft chuckle, "I hope not. He said he wanted a picnic in the park, so I'm on my way down to see Jon and pick up the basket."

Moppet beamed at her. "That is sooo romantic," she gushed, "You get to have all the fun!"

Nicole lead Moppet out of her room and closed the door. "I'm sure your date will be just as much fun. What are you two doing?"

Moppet made a face, "He's taking me skateboarding, nothing romantic like you're doing," sounding disappointed with her date.

"You should know by now romance is found where you make it, even skateboarding," she reminded the younger girl.

"Wow, I never thought about it like that," Midori said sounding like the voice of innocence.

As they walked down the hallway, Fiona Liu, a tall leggy woman, better known as 'Sesci' came out of her room dressed in a dazzling red evening gown and gold strappy high heels.

"Wow, Fi!" as Moppet called her tall willowy friend, "You must be going out for a night on the town!"

Fiona smirked at the smaller girl. "He's taking me to La Traviata," she gave Laura the visual once over, "Going to help slop pigs on the farm?" she said to Nicole with teasing smile.

"No Fi, she's going on picnic!" Moppet announced excitedly.

Secsi's smile grew wider. "A picnic. Who's the guy?"

Laura gave her a knowing look. "Name's Stan. He asked for a girl to have a picnic dinner with."

Fiona raised one eyebrow. "An evening picnic dinner and nothing else?" the tall woman said suggestively.

"Depends on whether or not he accepts me," Laura said in coy manner.

Fiona gave Nicole a serious look. "Sweetie, I don't think you'll have any problem being accepted by him."

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Laura** stood on the corner next to the curb. This time she was dressed in tennis shoes with a blue jean design, nice fitting jeans and a blue flowered short sleeved blouse, gathered at the arms with a rounded neckline which hugged the sides of her shoulders. She was looking for a Green Chevy. What she saw instead was a Portland Bureau of Police cruiser slowing as it approached her.

"Damn woman, you're lookin' fine tonight," Frank Moto called out his passenger window with a sleazy smile on his face.

Nicole felt herself shiver internally. She was really glad Moto wasn't really like this. She gave him a sarcastic smile. "Thanks, I think, unless you are implying that I don't look fine on other nights,"

Moto laughed and shook his head. "Girl, you take everything too literal. I was paying you a compliment."

Nicole feigned irritation. "Look, Frank, I'd love to chit-chat but I'm meeting someone-"

Moto's face darkened on cue. "A date?" There was a hint of jealousy in his voice.

Nicole tried to act like she was ignoring him. "Yes," she said huffily.

"Is this part of your 'girlfriend stuff'?" he asked. Moto was upping the jealousy tone.

Laura shot her 'boyfriend' an angry look. "That's none of your business," she said coldly.

Now the jealousy was replaced by anger. "It's my business if I say it's my business," he said as he opened his door and got out of his cruiser and in one swift move was beside her, grabbing her arm and shaking her roughly.

Nicole widened her eyes and began backing away from the curb and Moto. _Now to play the frightened deer, afraid of what her man might do to her…_

Suddenly a siren whooped, causing both Frank and Nicole to look toward the street. Another cruiser had pulled up behind Frank's car, his light bar flashing. Moto shot a look of concern to Nicole which was her cue to look at Watch Commander Sergeant Ben Long Bow with obvious relief. Sergeant Long Bow gave Frank a stern look. "Officer Moto, is there a problem here?"

"No problem, Sergeant," Moto said quickly, like he was trying to hide something.

Long Bow ignored Moto for the moment and looked over at Laura. "Is there a problem here, Miss?"

Ben was good. Nicole almost believed that he was actually concerned about her welfare instead of playing a part. Laura/Nicole quickly shook her head. No, officer, no problem here," she said as if she was lying.

Ben Long Bow gave Moto an exasperated grimace. "Officer Moto, a word," he said sharply to Frank.

Moto did his best to look hacked as he walked over to the Watch Commander while Nicole played up the 'serves you right' gloat.

 **x*x*x*x*x**

 **Moto** watched as Ben Long Bow began what could be called an academy award level performance. "What the hell are you doing?! We're supposed to 'protect and serve' not harass and intimidate!" he snapped angrily as he lit into Officer Moto as they stood over by the cruisers.

As Laura watched Long Bow ripping into 'her boyfriend', Moppet came up dressed in a plaid bare mid-riff long sleeved halter top, shiny blue silk short shorts with nude stockings and strappy white high heels. "What's going on, Laura?" she asked in an innocent confused tone. "What's wrong with Moto?" Frank had been doing his part to live up to his part by showing up occasionally during the last week and half. Sometimes the get-togethers were friendly, sometimes not. All were witnessed by John, Alyssa, and the rest of the girls. They definitely saw Laura's relationship with Frank Moto as tempestuous.

Brittany/Emily walked up, wearing a flaming red wig, gold lame short sleeved blouse, white hip hugger jeans and gold lame flats. She smirked at Nicole and Moppet. "Looks ta me like Moto is self-destructing, Laura," Brittany had shown up shortly after Laura had arrived claiming to be Laura's best friend. Which Laura seemed to think 'best friend' was a stretch but they were friends and friends did help friends. So on the strength of that and the fact her file didn't have any red flags, she was accepted at Mademoiselle Fabrege's.

Nicole feigned looking perturbed at Brittany's comments. "Frank is just worried about me doing this stuff."

Brittany gave Laura a worldly look. "Honey, if he doesn't straighten up and fly right, that Watch Commander will clip his wings, permanently."

 **x*x*x*x*x**

 **"Sergeant,** I can explain, that's my girlfriend-"

"I don't care if she's a damned mass murderer! I see you pull a stunt like that again and I'll have your badge!"

"What?! You can't be serious!"

 **x*x*x*x*x**

 **By now** several more of Alyssa Timshenko's girls were now standing on the street corner attracted by the police lights and the disagreement between two of Portland's finest.

 **x*x*x*x*x**

" **Officer Moto,** you're a member of the Portland Bureau of Police Traffic Division. I strongly suggest if you wish to remain an officer in said Traffic Division that you rein yourself in right damn now. Do you read me?"

"Yeah, man, I read you!" Frank said in a semi- insolent tone

The aggravated Watch Commander gave him a baleful look. "Watch that tone, Officer Moto, or I will relieve you of duty right here and right now! Are we clear?!"

"Crystal, sir!"

"Good, now get back in your cruiser and get back on patrol before I change my mind and relieve you of duty!"

Moto acted now as if he realized his mistake. "But Sergeant-"

"Get in the damn car, Officer Moto! Now!" growled Ben Long Bow.

 **x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Down the street** in an unmarked car, Detective Sergeant Sal Krustiak lowered his Nikon camera. Not having gotten anywhere with Backstrom's Loons, he decided to stick close to Moto.

"I see it, but I don't believe it," said his driver.

"Believe it," Krustiak replied in a stunned voice, "Officer Frank Moto just toasted his career," Wait until he told Lieutenant Scone the unexpected good news…

 **x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x**

 **Nicole** felt pretty good. It had been a long time since a guy had put a hand in her back pocket while they walked and when she did the same to him, he didn't seem to mind. After a leisurely stroll along Portland's River Walk in the early evening, he had given her a chaste kiss and offered to drive her back to the nightclub. She had read up on this client and knew he was just offering to be polite. Besides, the club was only a few blocks from here.

Nicole gave him a shy smile and told him it was okay, that she would just walk back. The guy, Lewis, gave her a smile and thanked her for the walk. He then hugged her and they parted. She was surprised that the he didn't try to sneak a kiss, but then again, that wasn't his style. According to Jon, he didn't play with the escorts.

As she headed toward the nightclub, she turned back and gave him one last smile and wave which he returned. Nicole smiled to herself, that wasn't so bad-it really was like a first date. As she walked along, she passed several couples, young and old, taking early evening strolls, and a couple of joggers.

As she continued walking she noticed a young mother up ahead of her, pushing a screened umbrella exercise stroller and holding the leash of a young Doberman that had just had its ears cropped. She could tell the surgery had been recently done because there were white boxes covering the dog's formerly floppy puppy ears. Nicole could also tell the mother was struggling with the dog and the carriage and then she saw why. There was a toddler girl, probably three years old who was very determined to push mommy's stroller.

Nicole probably would have just passed by her except for the fact that there seemed to be guy following her. He hadn't done anything to indicate nefarious intentions, but she just had a feeling about him. Rather than confronting him and blowing her cover, she picked up her pace and soon caught up with the woman.

The Doberman had decided to mark his territory over to right of the walkway. The mother's toddler daughter decided to push the stroller over the left side of the walkway.

"Honey, be careful with Tanya," the mother said as a warning to her precocious daughter.

"'kay mommy," the toddler replied ignoring her and driving the stroller straight toward the edge of the walkway.

"Haley, no honey, listen to mommy." At the same time she turned back to the Doberman and began urging the reluctant dog to go with her, "C'mon Duke, let's go."

The PPB Detective Sergeant could tell the young mother was losing this battle and that the guy following her had picked up his pace. So Nicole made her move.

"Hi, I couldn't help but see you might need someone to give you a hand." Nicole gave her what she hoped was a bright nonthreatening smile.

The dark haired pony tailed woman dressed in a ball cap, dark yoga pants and a burgundy stretchy top, gave Nicole a guarded look as she approached. "Thanks, but we're almost to the car," she said in a somewhat tense voice.

Nicole tried again. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the guy had slowed. "Look, I can see you being pulled different directions. Why don't you let me take Duke and you can see to Haley and Tanya."

The young woman seemed to be debating about the wisdom of that, when Tanya, inside the stroller, began screaming – not because Haley had dumped her off the walkway, but because she wanted mommy.

"Here," the mother said handing Nicole Duke's leash and then she walked over to the stroller and retrieved a bawling Tanya.

Duke looked up at Nicole and wagged his tail at her. "It's okay Duke, your master is just seeing to the girls," she said to the dog.

Duke looked from Nicole to the bawling Tanya and began whining.

"Do you want to go over there and make sure they're okay?" Duke began wagging his stub of a tail again.

Nicole smiled at the dog and gave his leash a gentle tug. "Okay, let's go."

Nicole took Duke over to the mother and Tanya, who had quieted somewhat now that she was safe in mommy's arms. Haley meanwhile was trying to take the stroller on down the walkway away from all of them.

Duke sniffed around the mother and licked her arm as she bounced a sleepy looking Tanya. "Duke just wanted to make sure Tanya was okay," Nicole explained to the mother. She smiled at the Doberman as he continued licking her arm. Then she turned her head toward the toddler girl who was headed away from them.

"Haley, get back here," the mother called out to her errant daughter.

Nicole and Duke went over to little Haley. The little girl wearing a t-shirt that said 'Power Girl' and little girl blue jeans that were gathered at the back, turned and squealed happily at Duke's approach. The Doberman nosed her in the back and began herding her and the stroller back toward mommy.

"Good dog, Duke," Nicole said to the pup. He began wagging the stump of his tail furiously and dancing around her.

This time the mother smiled. "Thank you -"

Nicole returned the smile. "Laura, Laura Renee Walters."

"Kate Ferguson," she motioned to the dog and the little girl with the stroller. "And you've already met Duke, Tanya, and Haley."

"Where did you say your car was?" Nicole prompted. She wanted make sure the guy following knew that Kate and her kids were about to get in their car. He really didn't want to be around when Nicole was by herself.

"Oh, right over here, thank you," Kate said distractedly, never realizing what danger she might be in.

As she opened the minivan's sliding door, Kate handed Tanya to Nicole. "Here, can you hold her for a moment? I need to get Haley buckled in."

Nicole was shocked and at the same time flattered by Kate's level of trust in her, and little surprised by Tanya snuggling into her shoulder without waking or crying. Duke was now sitting next to Nicole, his stubby tail wagging furiously as he looked up at both of them.

Kate, having succeeded in getting Haley belted in, turned to Nicole. "I can't thank you enough," she said as she took a now sleeping Tanya from her and began belting her into the second car carrier seat. "Can we drop you somewhere?"

Duke jumped in the back seat and lay down in the floor below Tanya and Haley.

"Oh no, thank you, I only have a little further to go," Nicole explained.

Kate gave her another smile as she walked around to the driver's side of the minivan. "Well thank you again, good night."

Nicole waited until Kate backed out of her parking space and was leaving the parking lot before turning and checking to see if the guy was hanging around. To her relief, he had disappeared.

She began walking away from the parking lot, grinning to herself. She'd never thought about kids before. But Haley and Tanya were awful cute… _wow Nicole, 2.5 kids…what's next…the house with the picket fence…and whose going to be their father…._

Suddenly a pair of strong hands gripped her. "Hey darling, you shouldn't be out her alone like this."

Dammit, in the midst of her estrogen charged daydreaming, she had forgotten all about the guy that had been shadowing Kate and her kids. What a rookie mistake. Well, she'd make him pay for putting his hands on her. "Let go of me!" Nicole growled.

"Now that's not very friendly at all, good looking. How about you and me go for a walk?" he said coldly to her as he tightened his grip.

Nicole was about to stomp on his foot with her heel when the both looked up at the sound of an approaching revving engine and a pair of bright headlights blinding them.

"What th-" Was all the guy could get out before the passenger side car door on the minivan popped open, knocking him away from Nicole.

The Detective Sergeant, still stunned by this sudden turn in events and still partly blinded by the vehicle's lights, found the guy's foot which was still near hers and stomped hard on it.

"Yeowch!" the off-balance man screeched. He started to regain his footing, a dark murderous look in his eyes. "You little-" Nicole stopped the next words out of his mouth with a well-placed swing of her weighted purse. The guy went down like a wet sack of cement.

"C'mon get in!" Kate said urgently to Nicole. Duke barked and growled at the unconscious man on the ground.

Nicole quickly rounded the van and got in. Kate left the parking lot, tires squealing, much to the delight of Tanya and Haley.

"I saw him headed toward you as I left the parking lot. Are you all right?" Kate asked as she continued at a high rate of speed down the street.

Duke was now trying to lick Nicole to death. "I'm fine, thanks, but you'd better-" Before she could complete her thought, she heard to whoop of police siren behind the minivan.

Kate immediately pulled over. The officer got out of his cruiser and walked up to Kate's window. "Out having a little fun with the family?" The officer said to Kate while eyeing the squealing children and barking dog in the back of the minivan.

Kate didn't give the officer time to say anything else. "Officer! A man in the park just tried to assault my friend!"

The officer glanced over at Nicole with a suspicious look. "Is that right, Miss?"

Nicole nodded. She could have produced her ID and badge, but doing that would have caused a lot more problems. So she opted to go along with Kate. "We knocked him out in the parking lot back there. Please, you have to believe us. If we go back there right now, I know he's still there on the ground. I hit him pretty hard with my purse." As if on cue the children screamed louder and Duke began to bark more furiously.

The officer held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right, ALL RIGHT!" Everyone quieted down. Even Duke stopped barking. "Let's go back there and see if we can find this guy," he gave Kate a warning look. "Follow me back over there. If you don't and I have to chase you down…."

"You have our word, officer," Nicole replied for Kate while glancing at her. "You won't have to chase us down." Kate looked at the officer and nodded her response.

He nodded seemingly satisfied by that and walked back to his car and got in. He flipped off his squad lights and turned around. Kate pulled in behind him and two vehicle convoy headed back to the park.

When they arrived back at the parking lot, there was already another police car sitting in the lot with its squad lights flashing. Two officers were standing over the unconscious man.

Kate pointed to the trio. 'There he is! They have him!"

Ms. Ferguson slowed as the officer did. He flipped on his squad lights, got out of the car and walked over to the two other officers. They conferred for moment before their officer came back over to Nicole's side of the car.

"Ma'am, would you mind stepping out of the vehicle? We need you to see if this was the man who tried to assault you."

Nicole feigned nervousness as she got out of van . Seeing her response, the officer moved closer to her. "Are you all right, Miss?" It was said with a mixture of concern and suspicion.

Nicole gave the officer what she hoped was an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, I'm just so nervous," she feigned admitting.

The officer, whose name badge read 'Eberley', gave her a reassuring smile. "It's okay, we'll be right here with you. He's not going to do anything to you while we're around. Besides we'll be shining a spotlight in his face so he can't see you."

Nicole couldn't tell if that was a come on, macho bravado, or genuine concern, but decided to go with genuine concern. She gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you," she said shyly.

That seemed to strike a chord with Officer Eberley. He gently put his hand on her arm. "You're welcome. Come on. Let's see if this is your guy."

Nicole looked down at the man. He looked a little different, a little scruffier in the glare of the squad car's harsh headlights and the glare from the spotlight, but that had to be the man who grabbed her and the one that had been following Kate Ferguson.

"That's him," Nicole said nodding.

Eberley escorted Nicole back to the van. As she got in, Kate got out to look at the unconscious man with Officer Eberley.

W'ares mommy goin'? Haley asked Nicole as only a toddler could.

Nicole gave the toddler a bright smile. "She and the policeman are going to look at a badman who tried to hurt me and your mommy."

Haley's eyes got wide. "Does mommy know the badman?"

Boy, that was a hard question to give an answer to. Especially an answer that a toddler would understand. "Uh, well, not really, the policemen just want to be sure that they have the right badman."

"Oh, o'kay," Haley replied sighing. That seemed to satisfy her.

 **\- To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Backstrom: You've Got to be Kidding Me – 6**

 **Peter** had breathed a sigh of relief when Everett Backstrom came down to the parking garage to see how he and Nadia were progressing on finding out who had burned his car and didn't even blink when he saw the car was now obviously in two pieces. He had expected Everett to ask for his resignation. Instead the Detective Lieutenant merely examined the burnt remains of his old car and asked he and Nadia had made any progress.

Nadia spoke first, telling him that they hadn't found anything worth mentioning yet, but that the moment they did, they would let him know.

That convoluted answer seemed to satisfy the Lieutenant who merely grunted and nodded before heading back to the elevator.

Peter and Nadia exchanged surprised looks. "I was not expecting that to work," Nadia said in a stunned voice. "It was just, as you say, 'off the top of my head'."

Peter nodded in agreement. "For what it's worth, I didn't expect it to work either."

Nadia gave a brief smile at the comment. Sometimes working for Everett Backstrom could be a real roller coaster ride, because you never knew what to expect. But right now they seemed to be on a pretty even keel with him.

Because of that and because the Portland Bureau of Police civilian administrator and computer specialist was in a better mood than she had been last night, Peter decided it was now or never.

"Nadia."

"Yes Peter?" Nadia had her back to him now, she was looking up more information on the make and model of the Lieutenant's car.

"I want to ask you something…and I don't want you to get mad at me."

She turned around in her chair and saw the serious look on his face. She dropped her smile. "Oh. Okay, what do you want to ask?"

"It-It's about that photo…in the MF Timshenko file," he said hesitantly

She turned back to her computer. "What photo?" Nadia replied flippantly, trying to feign nonchalance. Deep down, her heart was beating like a trip hammer and she was fighting the urge to bark at him or flee.

"You know the one, Nadia," he said gently to her as he closed the distance between them. "The photo of you and Oral Yomanovich taken by the NYPD's Organized Crime Unit."

She turned and gave him a bright fakey smile. "What about it?"

Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing from her lips. "What do you mean, what about it? Nadia, that's a picture of you standing next to a recognized organized crime figure!"

She didn't say 'tut, tut' but it was almost as dismissive. "Peter, that was a long time ago," she said turning back to her computer. What he couldn't see now was the storm of emotions playing across her face.

The SCU Forensic Specialist wasn't buying it. "It wasn't that long ago, and that was the photo you were looking at when I startled you yesterday, wasn't it?"

At first Nadia didn't respond, continuing to search the web, her fingers clacking on the keyboard at a mechanical pace.

"Nadia?" he prompted. She continued typing.

Peter stood behind her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. "Nadia, please, I want to help. If you're in trouble, we can beat this. You know we can. Let me help, please."

Nadia stopped typing and sighed heavily, putting her hands over Peter's that were resting on her shoulders and gave them a gentle pat.

"We will talk about it tonight," she said softly and then turned and looked up at him. "All right, mon amour_my love?"

Peter nodded his agreement. She hadn't stalked off or told him to mind his own business or bolted from the room, so in his mind, this was a good thing.

Nadia, though, was churning inside. A past that she thought she had escaped was threating to destroy her world. The urge was overwhelming to run, but she owed Peter, and everyone at SCU, an explanation before leaving.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x

 **Nicole** had spent the better part of the morning at the Portland Bureau of Police 'East' station giving her statement to detectives that were assigned to the case. She was visibly relieved that Evan Scone or one his cronies didn't breeze through the Crisis Response Team's department and spot her there. She made sure her makeup and outfit were definitely something Detective Sergeant Nicole Gravely would never wear, but she didn't want anyone from Scone's unit passing through and probing her.

Luckily they never showed their faces. And because she got out there unmolested she figured Evan still unaware who she really was.

The good news was that thanks to Kate Ferguson, this sleaze ball that tried to do God-knows- what with her would be cooling his heels for a good while. Jon Provoloka came in and made sure this guy wasn't a regular who had gotten handsey and gave 'Laura' a few tips before she had talked to detectives.

While Jon was talking to her, Nicole had laid on the 'wronged and angry woman' persona just strong enough that Jon got the point that she wasn't just going to drop this. After checking and getting Alyssa's approval, he agreed it would probably be good to get this ne'er do well off the street. Nicole noted that Moto breezed through while Jon was there to reinforce that her erstwhile boyfriend backed her on this - just in case Jon and Alyssa had second thoughts.

Once she finished at East Station, she walked back to Mademoiselle Faberge's and had a quick lunch with Jon, who again quizzed her on what had happened – just to be sure he had all the facts in case Alyssa had any further questions. And probably to make sure that Laura had not provoked this guy. Nicole again played up the scared but angry young girl from Alabama that wasn't going to let any man intimidate her. Jon was clearly impressed by her attitude and the way she handled herself.

"I was going to offer some self-defense lessons, but something tells me you don't need those," he said before finishing the last of his soft drink.

Nicole wanted to be sure he didn't suspect anything. "I can handle myself all right, but I wouldn't mind any pointers you might be able to give me."

Jon smiled as he patted his lips with his napkin. "Great, come down here about six, and I'll run you some moves that might help you the next time you run into a six hundred pound gorilla."

Nicole smiled at that but was curious about why he wanted her to come by in the early evening. "Why six?"

He had her hand him their dishes and he began cleaning them behind the bar. "Well, I figure you'll be back from your 'date' about 4:30, that will give you time enough to clean yourself up and get rested before we start. Plus I have a late set tonight."

"A late set? What do you mean? Like singing?" she joshed.

He gave her a gentle chuckle and a shake of the head. "Not' like singing', I do sing, and, very well, I might add." He added with a fake aire of official-ness. Laura giggled at that. Nicole found she was fast growing to like Jon. Sure, he was their 'boss' and 'the muscle' but he also had some endearing qualities, like his friendliness and concern for others.

"Do you mind if, that is if I'm not busy, me coming and watching your set?" Part of this request came from curiosity but another part of it came from something else.

Jon gave her another smile. "Sure, just make sure Alyssa knows you're coming and takes the cover charge out of your paycheck. Remember, there are no free lunches here," he gently reminded her.

Nicole chuckled at that. "Got it, so 4:30 for the defense lessons and –

"-And 8:30 for my set." He finished for her. "I usually run until 10, but if I'm running past that you can leave, cause I know you have work in the morning."

Nicole gave a grin for that. "Great." Then she looked up at the clock and saw what time it was. "Ooo, look at the time! I gotta fly, my date will be here in less than an hour!" She leaned over the bar and gave Jon a kiss on the cheek before he could say anything. "Thanks for lunch!"

Jon smirked as she watched her run out. "No problem. Have fun, and see you here at 4:30," he called after her.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Nicole,** wearing sensible flats, some nice blue jeans and yellow button down dress shirt, hurried down the stairs towards the lobby. She was cutting it close, but truthfully she had a hard time deciding what to wear for this guy. A computer geek from Silicon Valley and he wanted a date with a 'nice girl'…what kind of nice girl? So that resulted in several changes of clothes to get the 'right look'.

As she passed the front desk, Amber, the current 'greeter' for the afternoon shift, smiled at her. "Nice," she called out as Nicole passed. She turned and smiled at her and then headed for the doors. It was dark and threatening looking outside. _Great, and no umbrella…_

As if the clouds had heard her, what was a soft drizzle began to pick up in intensity. _So much for this date._ As she started to go back inside the lobby, a sedan approached the covered carport. The gentleman driving the car slowed and lowered the passenger side window. "Are you Laura Winsome?" the man asked.

Nicole smiled, "Yep, sorry about the weather messing up our date," she said sympathetically. You must be Ben."

He nodded, but he had a surprise for her. "Hasn't messed up our plans, that is, unless you mind getting a little wet." In his car Neal Sedaka's 'Laughter in the Rain' was playing.

Nicole began grinning as she opened the passenger door.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Emily** , dressed in a red panties and matching camisole top was sitting on her bed, flipping through the 700 plus channels the club's entertainment package offered. Seen it, seen it, nope, not that, ugh not that, ewwww, nope, no way- She almost didn't hear the urgent knocking on her door.

Hopping off the bed, she went over to the door and opened it. There stood Nicole Gravely looking like a drowned rat.

Emily's eyes widened. "N- Laura, what in the world happened to you?"

"I need to use your shower," Nicole said urgently as she pushed her aside

"What's wrong with your shower?" she asked Nicole as she hurried past

"Too far away," Nicole shot back as she made a beeline for the bathroom.

That was a confusing answer. Emily watched as Nicole slammed the door shut. "Sure, come on in," she said to the closed door.

Presently, Emily heard the shower running full blast.

"Hey Laura, is everything all right in there?" she called out.

When she didn't get any response, Emily opened the door, expecting to be bowled over by a cloud of steam.

Instead she heard an avalanche of water hammering a fully clothed Nicole. Emily cracked open the door. She could tell the water was ice cold because there wasn't any steam on the mirror. But Nicole didn't seem to care. Emily walked over and looked through the glass door at Nicole.

"You're gonna get sick doing that," she quipped as she watched Nicole.

Nicole rubbed her face then leaned her forehead on the shower wall below the showerhead. "Better that than what I might have done," she mumbled and stuck her head back under the cascading water.

Emily gave her a concerned look. "What do you mean by that?"

Nicole sputtered water from her mouth as she turned off the deluge, opened the door and took the towel that Emily handed her. "Let's just say he's a good kisser and leave it at that."

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Evan** let the line ring once, twice, on the third ring, someone picked up. 'Sergeant Billington, Clearport police,' the voice said.

Evan cleared his throat. "This is the Senior Detective in Charge, Evan Scone, Portland Oregon Bureau of Police, Drugs and Vice Division. Let me speak with Chief Nelson."

Sergeant Billington seemed unfazed by this fancy title thrown at him. 'One moment, sir,' the line clicked again. Scone looked at his watch. This was taking a lot longer than he thought it would.

'Chief Nelson.'

"Chief, this is Evan Scone, Portland Bureau of Police Drugs and Vice."

The voice on the other end turned friendly. 'Evan Scone, why, I haven't heard from you for a while. How are ya'll doing?'

Evan though, didn't have time for niceties. "Brandon, you remember that info you gave me for Detective Gravely's backstopped background?"

'Yeah, what about it?'

"There's girl here in town posing as Laura Renee Walters."

Brandon Nelson took a moment to respond. 'Evan, I hate ta tell ya this…'

"You 'hate ta tell' me what?" The Senior Detective in Charge replied sarcastically. _What the hell kind a bombshell is he going to throw at me?_

'Well, I based Detective Gravely's character on a real local girl an' her name is…Laura Renee Walters.'

The Head of Drug and Vice couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What?! You mean this is a real girl?!" Of all the lame-brained, stupid-

The Clearport Police Chief's voice took on a paternal tone. 'Now, now, simmer down, Evan. We didn't know that Laura was goin' to head for Portland. In fact, we thought she'd never leave the state.'

Evan though, was feeling decidedly sick to his stomach. "So you're telling me that there is a real Laura Renee Walters." Welcome to bizarro world.

The Clearport Police Chief didn't pull any punches. 'fraid so, Evan, why do you ask?'

 _Why do I ask?!_ "She-Laura's working at a local nightclub here in Portland," Evan said flatly.

'Well, as long as she's keepin' her nose clean, that shouldn't be a problem,' Brandon said in that irritatingly friend voice of his. Evan wanted to reach through the phone and throttle him.

"What if Gravely wanted us use her original background as her new cover?" Evan asked. This was bad, really bad. He needed to talk to Alvin about this development and fast.

Brandon chuckled. 'Now, I wouldn't suggest that, unless you want to pass Detective Gravely and Laura off as identical twins.'

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **After** Evan Scone hung up, Brandon Nelson turned to his computer, which had the smiling face of Everett Backstrom in a separate window on his screen.

"How was that?" the Clearport Alabama police chief asked SCU Head.

Everett nodded. "Perfect, Chief Nelson, thanks for your help in this,"

Chief Nelson smirked. "I never did like Scone, Lieutenant Backstrom. He always seemed like a pompous ass to me. Whatever you're doin' I hope you nail Evan Scone."

The Detective Lieutenant smiled at Brandon. "That's what I intend to do, Chief."

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **As** the rain continued to pour down outside, Nicole and Emily were sitting on her bed wearing bathrobes and eating double fudge chocolate ice cream.

Emily pointed her spoon at her. "You know, I'm not unfamiliar with all the kinky stuff, so tell me, why the fully clothed shower?" she said with a smirk.

The Detective Sergeant gave her a shy look as she put down her spoon. The shy look surprised Emily. _She almost looks embarrassed about this…_

"You know about Ben, right?" Nicole said quietly.

The FBI agent nodded. "Yep, the level-headed Silicon Valley computer geek. Wanted a platonic date with a pretty girl. Enter you."

Nicole nodded, still looking shy and embarrassed. "Well, it turns out he loves walks in the rain. God, Emily, he had me so horny by the time our date was finished, I just shook his hand and made a beeline to the first room at the top of the stairs."

"That would be mine," Emily said smiling.

Nicole chuckled ruefully. "Yeah, sorry, I don't think I would have made it to my shower."

Emily got closer to her. "He got your motor racing that hard?" she said conspiratorially in a stage whisper.

Nicole started to turn red. "Like I said, he's a really good kisser."

Emily was surprised by this. "Listen, not to ruin your rep or anything, but aren't you supposed to be used to this? I mean, you've been on lots of dates before, right? You played a prostitute the last time you were here and you dated ADA Kines."

Nicole gave her a guarded look. "Steven was the first guy that I was really serious about."

Now the answer was dawning on Emily about Nicole's behavior. "But this Ben, he really rung your bell, didn't he?"

"Uh huh," was her only answer as she took in another big mouthful of ice cream.

There was a knock at the door. "Boy, this place is busy this evening." She walked over and opened it to reveal an attractive woman standing there.

"Yes?"

The woman looked irritated. "Brittany, it's me, Jon."

Emily/Brittany knew Jon Provoloka. This wasn't him. _This must be a lady that goes by Jon._ "Jon? Jon who?"

The irritation on the woman's face grew more intense. "Jon Provoloka, I was supposed to meet Laura at 4:30-" He looked over and saw Nicole sitting on her bed. "Laura! There you are! I went down to your room, but you weren't there. What gives?" He/She gave Nicole a curious look. "Why are you still in your bathrobe?"

Nicole couldn't believe that this was Jon. This woman was an attractive, well-dressed woman that sounded like Jon, but this couldn't possibly be him.

When he didn't get an answer to his query, he gave both of them a stern look. "What's going on Brittany? Laura?"

Emily gave Jon/Jeanette a friendly smile as she pulled him/her inside. "Laura had her bell rung by her client, Ben Stewart," she explained as she closed the door and led her to the bed.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **The** line clicked once before a gruff voice picked up. 'Sheriff Colstrum.'

Senior Detective in Charge of the Drugs and Vice Division felt a lump in his throat grow larger and his stomach didn't feel much better. "Alvin, it's me, Evan," he said quietly.

Colstrum's steel voice sounded more irritated that usual. 'You idiot, I told you not to call me on this line.'

"But Alvin, we've got a problem-" Evan quickly began explaining.

But Alvin Colstrum didn't want to hear any of it. He sharply cut him off. 'The only problem I have is that you don't seem to understand what 'do not call my office' means. Now what is so earth shaking that you had to call me?'

"Laura Renee Walters is real-" Evan blurted out.

Evan realized that irritation was turning into anger. Not good. 'Real? What the hell are you blathering about?'

Evan quickly explained. "That hick Chief in Clearport, Alabama, told me Gravely's backstopped character was based on a real person who has just so happened to recently move out to Portland, and now she's started working for Mademoiselle Faberge's escort service."

Alvin Colstrum was silent for so long Evan thought he had hung up. 'You always were an idiot, Evan, so I guess it's up to me to clean up your mess…' growled the Multnomah County Sheriff

"What are you going to do?"

That was the wrong thing to say to Alvin Colstrum. 'You just leave that to me and don't call me again on this line or any other, burner phone or not, got it?'

Evan flinched as the County Sheriff cut the connection.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Now** Moppet, Secsi, Jeanette, Emily, and Nicole were sitting on Emily's big bed, everyone eating bowls of double fudge chocolate ice cream and sipping amaretto.

"What do you do when you get your bell rung?" Emily/Brittany asked. Girl talk was always fun, besides the information might come in handy for future undercover operations.

"Well," Secsi said giving the other girls a sly look, "If he's cute, I just go with it." That sent a round of laughter through the group. All except Nicole/Laura.

"But I'm supposed to be the girl friend experience, not the slutty girlfriend experience," Nicole said bluntly.

"Alyssa warned you about this, Laura," Jon said as he put another spoonful of ice cream in his/her mouth.

"Personally, I think she did the right thing, when a guy really gets me going, it's tough sometimes to know what to do," Moppet said sounding very adult at the moment.

"What do you mean, Moppet? Most of your clients are paying for services rendered," Secsi replied.

Moppet nodded her head. "I know, I know, but I like being in control, you know? So if I can't see straight because of what this guy is doing to me…that can be dangerous…well, you know what I mean," she added defensively when she noted the looks she was getting. She took another sip of amaretto from her glass. "I'm all for giving a guy his money's worth, but I don't want to get pregnant or end up falling in love."

Heads nodded as they all agreed, including Jon/Jeanette, that was probably a good thing to keep in mind.

Jeanette looked at Nicole. "Laura, just do like Moppet. If this guy is steaming your glasses, so to speak, take a break, take him somewhere and get something to eat, come downstairs to the bar, whatever works."

"And no more fully clothed showers, I mean, what if I had a paying customer in here? You got lucky," Emily added with grin.

Fiona nodded. "Brittany's right, don't let him or her get you that worked up. If they do, cool it off, the way a girlfriend would. It might hurt their ego a little bit, but like Moppet said, it's better than doing something you'll later regret."

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Greg** sighed as he fumbled with the key in door lock. _What a waste of a night..._ he thought glumly as the lock clicked and the door opened, letting him into the permanently docked boat he and his half-brother, Everett Backstrom, lived in.

The evening had started promisingly enough, when he met a young waiter named Tad. He was funny and smart. But then Tad introduced Greg to his 'friend' and it went downhill from there.

Tad was obviously attached to this guy and that certainly killed the mood Greg had been developing. What was worse was that the guy, Carl, made it clear that Greg was an interloper.

Rather than play one-upmanship, which probably was what Tad was wanting, Greg let go of 'the rope' and called it a night, much to Tad's disappointment and Carl's delight.

As Greg walked into the darkened living room, he flicked on the lights. _Be it ever so humble…_ he mused as he headed up to the kitchen area and opened the refrigerator. Two beers and a half a sandwich. Oh well, Everett will just have to suffer tonight. As he started to reach for the sandwich he heard rustling outside the front door.

 _Probably just a cat,_ Greg thought as he started to reach for the sandwich again, the rustling at the door seemed to grow more prominent.

"Okay, that isn't a cat," Greg said aloud as he grabbed a nearby baseball bat and headed to the door.

Whoever or whatever was out there was about to learn about the business end of a Louisville slugger.

Everett's half-brother stole silently up to the front door. The scratching and rustling which sounded like paper being crinkled and shoved into something was very prominent now.

Greg wrenched open the door, his bat ready to brain whatever or whoever was out there.

A stunned Nadia Paquet dressed in black jeans and matching black body hugging sweater holding a sheaf of paper stood on the doorstep, flinching and moving away from Greg.

Greg Valentine quickly recovered and lowered his bat. "Ms. Paquet?! What are you doing here this time of night?!"

"I…I was leaving a note…for Everett," Nadia said simply.

Greg was still a little off kilter at his discovery. "A note? Why are you trying to leave a multi-paged note for my brother on his doorstep?"

Nadia sighed. "I have to leave town, tonight," she said cryptically.

Backstrom's 'half-brother' gave her a confused look. "Tonight? Why? What's going on?"

When the Portland Bureau of Police civilian administrator and computer specialist didn't say anything in response, Greg waved her inside. "Note or no note, you're not leaving till you tell me what is going on."

Nadia looked like she wanted to leave but Greg's expression and the look in his eyes told her that wasn't an option. She nodded silently and stepped inside.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Greg** flipped through the multi-page note again as he sat next to Nadia. Both had beers which had been half emptied.

"So tell me again, why are you leaving?"

Nadia looked like deer still ready to bolt. "There is someone, someone who is very dangerous, that will soon know I am here in Portland. I cannot risk him harming Nicole or anyone else. I have to leave." She said vaguely and then she took another pull on her beer.

"Where are you going to go? You already fled New York to get away from him. Now you're here in Portland. Where to next, Hawaii? Guam? Japan? How about Siberia?"

Nadia knew he was being factious, but his pointed questions were the same type Everett and the others would ask. Maybe she should have just left town.

Greg put down the letter and moved closer. What he said next floored her. "Nadia, running away isn't the answer. If you need help, we'll help you—all of us. Peter I'm sure will, and Everett, believe it or not, will want to as well. You've got friends here. If you need our help, all you have to do is ask."

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Nicole** was in the nightclub listening to Jon/Jeanette as she performed. She got there just as Jon began his act. He had saved a table for her down front, so all she had to do was quietly slip in and make her way to the table. She had a front row seat for the show.

To say she was impressed with Jon's 'impersonation' would be a gross understatement. He sang, he flirted, and he looked so much like his stage persona, Jeanette, that Nicole found herself forgetting she was watching a man up there on stage.

Jon sang a number of sets, ranging from pop hits to old standards. His voice was perfectly trained. He sounded like Jeanette, he tittered like Jeanette and, of course, he flirted outrageously like Jeanette.

The outfits that Jon wore while on stage were body hugging numbers that accented everything about a feminine figure. But, it was all a carefully crafted illusion. Nicole knew this because just hours before, Jon put her through defensive training that would have worn out a SEAL Team. Jon was every inch a man when not on stage. But on stage, the transformation was nothing short of amazing.

The most amazing thing about it was her dance moves. She was like a ballerina on stage – light on her feet. Truthfully, Nicole thought Jon would show off his maleness when he danced. Instead he did moves that would have made a Baryshnikov ballerina jealous.

Jeanette was not 'butch' in the least. She was a girl's girl. 100% all American honey. Nicole swore she saw him blush when one of the stage hands handed him a bouquet of flowers from one of his admirers in the audience. He looked out at audience with teary eyes and in a voice thick with real tears thanked 'her' admirer. The SCU Detective Sergeant found herself joining the audience in enthusiastic clapping and one standing ovation that lead Jeannette to do two encore music sets. One in which Jeanette was joined on stage by one of audience members as they sang a heart moving duet.

When Jon finished, he made a beeline for Laura/Nicole's table. "Well? What did you think?" he asked as he/she smoothed his skirt before sitting down.

"What did I think? Did you not see me leading one of the standing ovations that you received?" she gushed. For some reason Nicole felt very giddy talking to him. Kind of like she did the first time she met ADA Steven Kines.

Jon smiled and gave her an embarrassed chuckle. "Well, I usually don't get ovations like that, and maybe that has to do with you. Maybe I ought to have you out in my audience every night I perform."

Now it was Nicole's turn to blush. "You were really good," she said coquettishly, avoiding looking at him/her directly. She couldn't understand why she was behaving like this, but there was something about him that excited her.

"Well, thank you," and then he said in a very feminine voice "and Jeanette thanks you too."

"How do you do that?" Nicole asked, referring to Jon's ability to turn on and off this persona.

Jon gave her a wink, "Years and years of training and practice, Sweetie." Nicole liked the way he said 'Sweetie'.

"I've been doing this for about 20 years now," he said

Nicole had a million questions she wanted to ask. "So how did you get started?"

"Truthfully? A friend and I worked up a skit for a talent show."

"High school?"

"Yeah, and college. A drama teacher saw me and was amazed I could do it so flawlessly. In fact she tried to date me. But then she found out-"

"-She found out you really were a guy," she finished for him. He smiled at that.

"Yeah, you could say that killed the romance. But she still supported me working on my act, truly becoming the young woman who would eventually become Jeanette."

"Was it hard?"

"You mean did I have to put up with Neanderthals and overly amorous men and women? Oh man, so many I've lost count. Once they found out it was all an act, well, I got involved in more than a few fights. Once you knock them out cold, though, they usually get the message."

"The overly amorous?" Nicole kidded.

Jon laughed. She liked his laugh. "Only when there was no other choice. Usually changing my voice and my mannerisms were enough to cool any flames of romance."

"How did you…get here?"

"Alyssa saw my act at another club. She also saw me clean the clock of guy who didn't know that no means no. Plus, she knew that I was a bouncer at that club. She heard about my previous experience-"

"Previous experience?" she said interrupting and then feeling self-conscious about doing it.

But if Jon was irritated by her interruption, he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed intrigued that she was that intrigued. "Well, to pay the bills, I taught self-defense classes, worked as a bouncer and security guard at more than a few places. You get a reputation. And Alyssa-"

"-And Alyssa wanted you."

"Not only did she like my act, she needed muscle for the club. Not a bonebreaker, but someone for overheated johns and protection for the ladies, plus my security background gave me some pretty decent detective skills."

 _Pretty decent, but fortunately not good enough to ferret out me and Emily._ Immediately she felt bad about that. Jon was decent guy, and she hated deceiving him. She also knew that one day he would find out. She really hated that. For the first time in doing undercover, she actually was concerned about hurting someone because she was pretending to be someone else.

He gave her a sly smile. "Well, you've learned about me, what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah you, Sweetie, how did you-"

She hoped she didn't flub this. "Get into this business? I've always been able to be the perfect first date. I started back in high school. I just couldn't seem to get past the first date with guys, so I began perfecting that ultimate first date. I found myself looking forward to meeting the next guy I could wow and a steady relationship seemed boring."

"That must've been interesting for your parents."

"Truthfully, they didn't care. As long as they didn't know about it, it just wasn't anything they were interested in. Mom was deep into raising babies and Dad, well, he was never there."

"Absentee?"

"More like barfly. I don't know how he did it, but he rarely came home drunk. Mom tolerated it and they seemed to like the arrangement."

"So when did you go into the escort service business?"

"Well, for a while I just offered my services as 'a date'. You know, for weddings and stuff, and then I decided to push the boundaries and came to attention of the Clearport Alabama police department."

"And how did that turn out?"

"They were nice at first, mistook me for a horny teen looking for 'love in all the wrong places' so to speak. Then one of my clients panicked one night and as they say, the masquerade was over."

Jon's eyes narrowed. "Did they hurt you?"

"A few did, but they were real a-holes. I was pretty tough though, so I survived. Then one day a madam, I can't even remember who she was, took me in. She liked my skill set, so to speak. So I began working for her."

"As a high class call girl?" She knew he was kidding her. She grinned.

"More like a high class escort. I was her best, she said. Of course that meant jealously and one night someone decided I had to go."

"They tried to kill you." His voice was hard.

"Yeah, but they got the madam. When the police arrived, I was covered in her blood and a babbling mess." She had pulled that from one of her cases.

"How were the officers that found you?"

"Actually, they were the best. One was a female. She bought me coffee, talked to me, and listened. Her partner was intrigued by me. Heard about what I did, really didn't think I was that bad. Those two should have gotten an award of some sort for how they handle folks." Jon didn't know it, but she was reliving one of her first experiences on the job as a patrol officer.

"Then they introduced me to a detective. Despite my initial concerns, he really cared about me. Not just as a hot date. He paid for my dinner, and then he introduced me to the witness protection program they had. I had witnessed a murder and could name names. They needed me to break the back of this organization. It took all three of them to convince me I needed to do this."

"And?"

"And the guy went to the chair for what he did. Told me he would kill me one way or the other as they lead him from the courtroom. After that I disappeared."

"But you didn't like it."

"I'm a rambling girl to paraphrase the song," she said with a faint smile on her face. "I like my freedom and I love being the perfect first date. I made a deal with the Clearport police and began my trek west. Five years ago I ended up here."

"So Alyssa heard about your reputation and hired you."

"Not at first. I worked some lower class operations around here. But one night I came into the club and ran into Alyssa. She took me under her wing so to speak."

"So you owe her."

Nicole smirked at him. "Sounds kinda crass when you put it that way. Yeah, I guess, but she also gave me what I wanted. Then that police vice detective, Gravely, showed up and folks couldn't get over the resemblance we had when we stood together. She leveled with me, snakes were worming their way into Alyssa's club. I could help stop them. I didn't trust her at first, but the more she talked, the more I wanted to help. I mean, Alyssa had saved me from ending up dead in a gutter somewhere. I owed her. So I took the detective's deal."

"And it worked?"

"For a while. She was racking up the convictions, I was helping my…my mentor. Then it all went wrong. Gravely got called on the carpet. Alyssa found out what I was doing. The ADA had to go on TV and the media nearly ate him alive. The detective was put on administrative leave, her cases were overturned and I took the fall for her." That part was mostly true. Except for the fact that Laura never came to Portland. This was Nicole's undercover identity.

"Why?"

"You know sometimes late at night I ask myself the same thing. I guess it was because I believed in what she was doing. And I wanted to help Alyssa."

"You're a fascinating woman, Laura." She actually felt her heartbeat quicken when he said that. "So are we on for more defensive training tomorrow?"

Nicole felt herself blushing again. "You bet, and hey, thanks."

"Thank you for coming tonight. See you tomorrow, Sweetie," he said winking at her as he got up from the table.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Nicole** sighed, taking another sip of her drink. Her role: High Class Escort (albeit a "fake" one) sitting alone in the night club's bar after Jon's set. Her date had been a no-show, so here she sat, alone nursing a drink. It sounded (and felt) slightly depressing. But still, between all the stuff going on as of late, and all the responsibility she had, she needed some alone time. She almost didn't notice a pretty young brunette approaching her. "Hi," the woman said, somewhat sheepishly, her eyes meeting Nicole's as she sat down next to her. "You're new around here, right? I haven't seen you up until recently."

Nicole nodded her head, observing the woman carefully. She had seen this woman around here a couple of times before, and she seemed normal, but Nicole didn't want to risk blowing her cover. "Yes," she eventually answered, doing her best to sound relaxed and trusting. "I just got here a week ago."

The woman smiled at her, before holding out her hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Kerri."

Nicole smiled back as she shook hands with Kerri. "I'm Laura. Glad to meet you too, Kerri." She remained silent for a moment, contemplating the question she wanted to ask. "So... I guess you've worked here for a while now, huh?"

"Almost a year now," Kerri admitted, sounding rather happy, satisfied even. "I've done similar... jobs in other cities before, of course. Plenty of girls here have." She sighed, taking a look around. "But it's always nice to come back to your hometown."

"I agree, this is a great place," Nicole said. "I like it here."

"Me too," Kerri said. "And I like meeting new girls. It's fun." She frowned, recollection flashing over her face. "I saw you with that blonde chick. Brittany, I think. She's new too, right?"

"Yup," Nicole confirmed, chuckling. "My companion, for better or for worse."

Kerri frowned, leaning a bit closure to Nicole. "Are you two an item? Or..."

Nicole flinched, but soon composed herself. "No," she said, smiling slightly. "Just friends."

Kerri frowned, tilting her head to the side as she observed Nicole, rather curiously. "Huh. You know, you remind me of that girl I used to know. She was great."

Nicole smiled, although she felt herself shudder. Something about that comment sounded a bit too... intimate. She fought the need to look away. _Okay Gravely, buck up, you can do this…_ "You still keep in touch with her?" she asked softly, running her hand casually through her hair like she was preening.

Kerri shook her head, a solemn look appearing on her face. She sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment. "No. But nothing good can last forever, I guess. That's life. Gotta live in the moment."

"True, that," Nicole agreed, feeling something flutter in her chest. Was it nerves about dealing with an uncomfortable situation or something else?

Kerri looked Nicole in the eyes, moving a little closer to her, her voice dropping a bit. "Look, if you have any questions, or need help with anything, you can come to me. I can be quite…helpful. And I'm pretty generous. That's what they tell me, anyway."

"Thank you," Nicole said, feeling herself blush. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Kerri replied, smirking. "And remember. If any of the johns try to get rough with you or something, don't take it. If it gets really bad, kick the guy in the balls and take off. Women you just have to slap two or three times."

Nicole smiled, nodding her head. "Duly noted., Thanks." This was odd considering what she and the other girls had talked about earlier about 'cooling off a date'. Obviously Kerri had had some darker encounters with 'dates'. Still, rather than acting shocked, she decided Laura would just accept this as just another piece of good advice.

Kerri nodded back "No sweat, have a good one." She stood up and walked away. Nicole looked after her for some time, Kerri's words echoing through her mind. _Okay, she's a possible suspect..._ Now she needed to get some evidence to back up that theory.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Everett** was sitting in his office for once not looking at porn on his computer, or eating or drinking or even smoking. He heard a rapping on his door jamb, and looked up to see Chief Anna Cervantes standing in his doorway.

"Anna," he said getting up from his chair

"It's a good thing your crew decided to all take lunch at the same time or I'd have to rip you a new hole for not calling me Chief."

He gave her a smirk. "Sorry, Chief Cervantes. What brings you slumming in the Special Crimes Unit?"

She arched her prominent eyebrows. "First of all, I don't slum, I hear things. Like I hear that Detective Sergeant Gravely is back undercover at Mademoiselle Faberge's."

Everett turned his back to her. "Yeah? Who told you it was Gravely?"

"Talk filtered up to me that a prominent southern belle high class escort was back at the night club. You just confirmed who is working there."

The SCU Detective Lieutenant turned around. A surprised look on his face. "Did I?"

"You did."

"Crap," he said with a scowl like kid caught doing something wrong.

Anna fought the urge to chuckle. This was serious business. "Crap is right. Everett, what are you thinking? I know you were with me when Gravely was undercover at Mademoiselle Faberge's the first time, but why is she back there?"

Everett was ready for her doubts and he knew how to dispel them. "Two reasons. One, there is a serial killer that has arrived in Portland. She's been all over the United States. We're pretty sure she's either from here or the region."

 _Okay, that answers one question._ "Okay, I'll bite, why are you staking out the night club?"

"The killer likes to work at bordellos, dance halls, social clubs, gentlemen's clubs, houses of ill repute-"

Anna held up her hands in surrender. "Got it. What's the second reason?"

 _Now for the bombshell..._ "We think we may know who is the 25th John."

Anna's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "The 25th John? Who?"

"That's why Gravely is there. To find out and to ferret out the serial killer," he said with a flourish.

Despite his quirks Everett was good. The only part he was bad with was being a team player. That is, unless it was his own team. "What does Detective Lieutenant Scone have to say about this?" she asked.

Everett turned away from her. "We – we didn't tell him." He knew that 'Chief Cervantes' was about to pull rank and had to act fast. "We think he may have been working with the 25th John," he blurted out.

Anna looked shocked. She sat down in the recently cleaned chair. "Everett, do you know what you are suggesting?" she said in a stunned tone.

"I do." He said solemnly. "I'll stake my career on it."

She nodded again, still trying to absorb what she was just told. "Is that why there is an FBI agent hanging around here as well?"

"She gave us some good information about the serial killer. She and Gravely are sure she's at Mademoiselle Faberge's. They just haven't run into her yet."

 _Oh no…_ "They? You mean they are both undercover at the club?!"

"Her boss approved it. It's a joint operation," he said in a matter of fact manner.

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline again. "A joint operation?! Everett! You should have cleared this with me!"

"I know, I know," he said trying to downplay that overlooked fact. "But we had to act fast. We don't know how long the killer will remain at club."

She nodded. She may have been the Chief of the Portland Bureau of Police but she also knew when Everett Backstrom told her something, it was the God's honest truth. "All right, consider me informed about this joint operation of yours. I'll run interference at my level and have your back when the Mayor asks me about this. But are you sure about Evan Scone? Is he dirty?"

"As dirty as the windows in this building." She gave him a disgusted look for that snide comment. "You know they are," he replied petulantly. He could see he was losing her on this.

Time for one more plea – this time from the heart. No lying or other shenanigans. "Anna, trust me on this, Evan Scone is dirty. He's responsible for the collapse of Gravely's sting operation, for ADA Kines having to eat crow before the media, for Gravely nearly being fired. If it wasn't for you, who knows where she would have ended up. Trust her on this." He walked over to her chair a rare pleading look on his face. "Trust me on this?"

She nodded and stood. "Keep me informed, Lieutenant."

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Frank Moto** and Nicole were sitting lobby of Mademoiselle Faberge's talking in low tones like two lovers. For the most part, Amber at the front desk and other girls walking through the lobby either smiled at them, or ignored them.

Frank reached for her as he got close enough, he whispered in her ear. "Have you learned anything yet?"

Nicole pretended to giggle and playfully pulled away from him. "Nothing on the 25th John, but I have person of interest with regards to our serial killer."

Frank started grinning. "Who?"

Nicole leaned in close. "A girl named Kerri. I'll try and learn more about her soon. She fits the type of person we're looking for."

Frank leaned in again and pretended to tickle her. "That's good, because Emily contacted Everett and told him both of you were concentrating on finding the killer and dropping the 25th John idea."

Nicole giggled again as if she was ticklish, but her mind was racing. "Did Emily really say that to him?"

Frank looked at her, he almost broke character. "You didn't know?"

She moved in close, a sultry smile on her face, which belied her building anger. "No, I didn't."

"She told Everett you were fine with this, that we'd concentrate on just finding the killer."

Nicole gave him a peck on the cheek and stood up. "I gotta go talk to Emily." she whispered tersely to him and then walked away headed for the stairs.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Nicole** was irritated. No, she was more than irritated, she was mad. In fact, she was pissed.

The target of her anger, one Emily Baker, FBI Agent currently posing as Tiffany, was her supposed 'best friend'.

When she got to Emily's room, she grabbed the door handle. Amazingly, the handle turned. Without waiting, Nicole stormed in.

Emily was trying on her electric blue lame underwear. Earlier, she had disabled the room's camera which she was allowed to do if she wasn't entertaining. This was her last chance at making this op work. If she screwed this up…

With her back to the door, she didn't see Nicole barge in.

She stopped, stunned by Emily's backside bent over in front of the mirror. Emily looked in the mirror and saw Nicole staring at her. She stood up and turned around. "What the hell are you doing in here, again? Don't you ever bother to knock?"

"You…you lied to me!" Nicole ground out.

Emily took an involuntary step backward. "What? What the hell are you talking about? Are you high?"

Nicole got nose to nose with her. "You don't have any interest in finding the 25th John! All you want is your serial killer!"

Emily didn't say anything.

"Who told you?" she finally said.

Nicole had been hoping that Frank was mistaken. Maybe Emily had been joking, but what the FBI agent said, and the look on her face said everything. Nicole practically snarled. "Who do you think?! Frank Moto is a friend, and you told him what you really thought and what you planned to do! God, I was so naïve to believe you would go along with this!" She turned away from Emily.

"What? Chase your precious Moby Dick?!" It sounded like a taunt. At least in her angered state it sounded like one.

Nicole turned back to her, her eyes ablaze with hatred and tears. "That Moby Dick may be responsible for luring that nut job back here!"

 _Whoa! This kid is two steps away from a straitjacket!_ "Nicole! Listen to yourself! Do you honestly think some all-powerful John lured a serial killer to town just to use her to hide their crimes?!"

Nicole was shaking with fury. "I think you're underestimating just what kind of guy this John is. He got all my cases overturned. He made a fool of the District Attorney, the police department, and me! I think you don't give a damn who you have to lie to, cheat on, or hump as long as it results in you getting your precious killer!"

Okay, that hurt. Time to dish out some reality to this little chippie. "That precious killer has snuffed out a dozen or more innocent lives across the country! Hell yes, I want her caught, and I will lie to and/or hump, as you delicately put it, whoever I need to, to get this killer!"

"Besides, your 25th John, as you call him, probably isn't even in this town anymore!" she added as the crowning touch.

Nicole rolled her eyes. "Then tell me, oh great FBI agent, who put Steven Kines in the hospital with bullet wound to the chest?!"

Emily had about had it with Nicole Gravely. She walked past her, heading for the bathroom. "Oh, I don't know, some nut job, using a term you used earlier. But I don't think it was a 25th John, or a 19th John or 7th John that put him up to it!"

"You unbelievable blond witch!" Nicole shrieked as she launched herself at Emily.

They both sailed onto the bed, plowing pillows out of the way as they landed. The two ladies grunted, screeched, and shrieked as they fought on the bed.

At first, Emily had the advantage, then Nicole, then Emily levered herself on top again, but only for a moment before Nicole wriggled out of her grip and pinned Emily.

Both were breathing hard as Nicole looked down at Emily. For the first time, Nicole saw fear, real fear in Emily's eyes. She was pinned to the bed and couldn't move, and Nicole wasn't going to let her up.

"Let me up," Emily said simply.

"No," Nicole hissed. She grinned at her trapped victim.

"Please Nicole. I'd like to get up now," Emily said, struggling a little against her hold.

"No, I like you better this way," Nicole said quietly. "How does it feel to not be in control?"

"Nicole, please let me up," Emily said a little more urgently.

Now the Detective Sergeant just looked at her.

"Please Nicole, you're scaring me…"

Nicole's voice was low and had a disquieting quality to it. "Scaring you? Well, if I'm scaring you, maybe I ought to kiss you and make it better…"

Nicole bent down to Emily's face and kissed her on the lips. It was a deep, probing kiss.

Emily struggled at first, and then relaxed. The moment she relaxed, alarm bells began ringing in Nicole Gravely's head.

She immediately sat up, still straddling Emily.

"Um, oh God," she murmured. She put a hand to the side of Emily's face. "I'm-I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Emily said quietly as tears leaked from her eyes. She smiled up at her. She didn't know why she was smiling. Maybe it was token of surrender. Maybe it was to reassure Nicole she hadn't done anything wrong. Truthfully, she didn't know herself.

Nicole was now horrified about what she had done. She was in full panic mode. "Oh God, what have I done?" She immediately hopped off Emily.

The FBI agent sat up, her voice soothing. "It's okay, Nicole, really."

Nicole had her head in her hands, her head shaking back and forth. "No it's not. Do you realize what I have just done?" The Detective Sergeant began quietly sobbing.

Emily moved over to the side of the bed and sat next to her. "You took control. You showed me you can be a boss. It was scary and exciting at the same time, right?"

Nicole's tear-streaked and red face looked at her. "I assaulted you!"

Emily continued talking softly. "It's only assault if it's not consensual." She was trying to be reassuring. Deep down she knew her goading had led to this. The tension had been building for a long time and Nicole, playing to 'perfect date' to both male and female, was bound to become confused. Playing with emotions could be dangerous.

Nicole looked mortified. "That was consensual?!"

Emily decided not to argue semantics, or underlying feelings for that matter. "We were both overheated. We got carried away, that's all."

Nicole looked away from her, obviously ashamed of what she had done. "I held you down, I kissed you!" She sounded like a school girl at confessional, which in Emily's mind told her Nicole was going to be all right. Maybe a compliment would help. "You're a good kisser."

But Nicole was still in self-persecution mode. "Oh my God, what is wrong with me?!"

Emily decided rational thought might help, and maybe a little honesty. "You are a very passionate professional, and I pushed all your buttons at once, and that was a mistake on my part. But I'm not sorry it happened."

Nicole couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You're not?"

Emily shook her head with a shy smile on her face. "No, sometimes I get too full of myself. I need to be reined in – call it a bad childhood, whatever, so you did what needed to be done."

"Do—do you want…to make out?" There was fear and trepidation in Nicole's voice. What had she unleashed? What would Backstrom say? Probably 'great, I love threesomes' knowing him.

Emily chuckled, "No, I really don't swing that way, I think. But if you like, I can get dressed, and we can lie together on the bed and watch television."

Nicole started to say something, but Emily put a finger to her lips. "It's okay, I'm fine. You're right. I shouldn't have blown off your 25th John idea. I guess I just got carried away with the idea of finally nabbing this witch, being so close and all."

Emily hopped off the bed and headed toward the bathroom. "Find something good on television. When I get dressed, we'll pop some popcorn and watch a movie together. All right?"

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Alvin** **Colstrum** scubbed his face. _That idiot Scone…_ he never should trusted him to find a shooter to take care of their problem.

"If you want something done right," he grumbled as he pulled a burner phone out of his pocket and began tapped in a number he knew by heart.

"Stu? This is Alvin. Remember you said you owe me? Well, I'm calling to collect."

The voice on the other end was low and spoke in brief spurts. Sheriff Colstrum shifted in his chair, turning toward the window. "You heard about the shooting? Yeah, it was a botched job. No, I don't want you to take care of the shooter. Listen you know what I want done. Yeah, that's fine. No problem. Oh and one more thing. I need you to also take care of a high class escort works at Mademoiselle Faberge's. Her name is Laura Renee Walters. Yeah, that'll work."

Alvin cut the connection and dumped the burner phone into the aquarium beside his desk. The fish didn't seem to mind as this new object sank to the bottom of the tank. They had experienced this many times before.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x

 **Nicole** walked toward the lobby, heading back to her room. She was tired... but, then again, the real work in this place always started at night. She flinched, noticing a familiar face. Kerri Tanner was sitting on an armchair near the lobby, opposite to a young, blushing woman. The other woman had her arms pulled out in front of her... while Kerri finished wrapping something around her wrists.

"You see, it's easy...and it really doesn't hurt..." Kerri mused. "And, we'll have some fun tonight."

Nicole' eyes widened, recognition flashing in her mind. She observed the knot for some time, a feeling of dread overcoming her as she watched.

Nicole looked around. She carefully pulled out a burner phone from her back pocket. She positioned it right, got good footage of the bondage, and then snapped a photograph for extra evidence. She slipped the phone back into her pocket, looked around, and walked away.

Luckily, it didn't take her long to find the person she needed. Emily was standing in the corner, observing a couple sitting at the near-by counter. She seemed to be amusing herself.

"E... Brittany?" she said mentally slapping herself for almost calling her by her real name.

"Yo," Emily replied, turning to face her.

Nicole frowned at her response, but quickly dismissed it. She pulled a phone out of her pocket, looked around, and then showed the recently taken photograph and video to Emily. "Look at this," she whispered.

"Looks like the bindings that were used on Rena Keller," Emily noticed as she watched the video and looked at the picture, before looking up at Nicole. "Black leather leash, military style knot... where did you take this?"

Nicole looked around once again before continuing. "In the lobby," she whispered. "I saw one of the... girls…Kerri "demonstrate" her bondage technique to her client. Let's go out and get a breath of fresh air, it's kind of stale in here, don't you think?"

Emily nodded at her suggestion and both walked past the front desk and out onto to portico. Nicole giggled and pulled her phone out. Emily followed suit and giggled back, taking the phone. They both began walking away from the portico.

Emily frowned as she scanned the picture and video because there happened to be several Kerri's working here. "That is kind of suspicious, but that doesn't mean that she's the serial killer."

Nicole realized her mistake – she had to be more specific. "Well, the girl who did this was Kerri Tanner. Remember her?"

Emily's face lit up in recognition of that name. "I interrogated her," she remembered. " Well, not really interrogated, we just talked, but the conversation did ring some alarms for me. She used to date Amy, right?"

Nicole nodded. "SCU talked to her with regards to that based on a an anonymous tip and she refused to provide a DNA sample," the SCU Detective Sergeant replied.

"Prostitutes rarely trust the police, let alone the FBI. But now, when I see this..." She looked around herself before leaning over to Nicole, lowering her voice. "Look, you have this, sort of, computer expert... Nadia... right?"

That was sort of a snarky way of referring to their computer analyst, but Nicole let it slide, this time.

She nodded her head. "Right."

"Have her look into Kerri's background", Emily advised. "Let's see if anything shocking and/or traumatic happened to her."

Nicole couldn't resist. "And, preferably, the records of her wetting her bed, torturing animals, and setting fires as a child," she couldn't help but add with hint of mischief in her voice.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Don't condescend. I got carried away, okay? You know those can be some of the tell-tale signs. Unless you know how we can also access her blood screening and a brain scan."

Now it was Nicole's turn to roll her eyes. "Nature vs nurture aside, do I have to remind you that we don't have the access to medical records, social service records, or juvenile records?" Nicole hissed.

"I'm sure you can find something if you are researching about a specific person who is a suspect in a series of murders. Nadia is an expert, right? Make sure that she checks to see if one of the traumatic events took place in April or November." She looked around once again before continuing. "In the meantime, try collecting a sample of Kerri's DNA. Your forensics person, Peter, can extract a DNA profile and compare it to the one found at the crime scenes."

Nicole nodded her head. "Anything she discards, we can legally use. A cigarette butt, a napkin, panties..."

Emily frowned. "Panties?"

"They are basically expandable in here," Nicole said, matter-of-factly, trying to hopefully sound sophisticated. "Lots of clients and some of the workers, despite Alyssa's training, get carried away. They don't care much about such articles of clothing."

They both chuckled. Emily ran a hand through her hair. "Have Nadia check the travel logs too. See if Kerri was in those states at the time of the murders. Even if she was paying in cash, and used an alias, she could have left some sort of trace." "Now go back there, and keep an eye on Kerri," Emily ordered. "If she is a serial killer, and she is with a client now, he or she may be next."

FBI agent Baker was obviously used to being in charge and ordering folks around. "Wow, how about a please?" Nicole shot back sarcastically as they both turned around and began walking back toward the portico.

Emily gave her an 'are you kidding' look. "Really?" When she saw that Nicole's face remained stony, she sighed heavily. "Okay, fine. Please," she replied with just as much sarcasm.

Okay, impasse. Still, it satisfied her. Nicole's face became serious as she nodded, "So, I am just supposed to go and keep an eye on them? While they..." she whispered, unable to finish the sentence.

Emily smirked at her naiveté. "Well, the rooms have security cameras, right?" She barely withheld a laugh when she was met with that comment by Nicole's horrified facial expression. "Just be close by, keep an eye on her room," she reassured her. She couldn't help but add, "Carefully, of course. The behavioral evidence has shown that our killer is probably escalating."

Nicole simply nodded again and then turned to leave, figuring another smart comment wouldn't accomplish anything.

Emily watched Nicole as she walked away. With little luck, they might have the killer in custody by tonight. Unless something went wrong...

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **The** unmarked police sedan rolled to a stop in the alley way. Across the street stood Nicole, in Laura Walters persona, waiting for her 'date' to pick her up.

The two detectives studied Nicole for moment. Then a voice came from the back seat. "Is that her?"

Without looking back at their passenger, the driver, a guy with longish hair and droopy mustache, nodded his head. "Yeah , boss, that's her."

Evan Scone was now sitting on the edge of the back seat looking over the front seat at the woman standing at the corner. It could be Nicole. The height and build were right, but the hair and her looks…there was only one way to find out.

Evan opened the back side passenger door. "Okay, you two stay here," he said as he got out. He knew Alvin Colstrum would take care of the Ms. Walters problem, but it wouldn't hurt to do a little excursion himself and see if he could smoke her out.

The detective in the passenger seat, balding and wearing a loud sports jacket, started to object. "But boss-"

He gave loud sports jacket a sharp look. "Don't 'but boss' me. You heard me. Stay here, I'll investigate this myself. Got it?"

Both detectives looked at each other and then back at Scone. "Yes sir," they both replied.

He nodded and closed the car door and started over to Nicole.

Nicole/Laura was standing at the corner looking down street for an approaching car. There were none. Her date was supposed to meet her here five minutes ago. Okay, she'd give him ten more minutes and then call it night. Then she saw someone approaching on foot. Who she saw made her blood freeze.

Evan stopped and threw an exaggerated squint at the escort standing on the corner. "Nicole?"

Thanks to her training, Nicole resisted the urge to flinch at the calling of her name. She turned toward Evan Scone and gave him a curious look. "I'm sorry, who?" she said innocently.

Evan played the perfect gentleman. "Hey, I'm sorry, the light out here-"

Nicole didn't let him finish. Laura wasn't buying it. "The light out here is just fine. Who are you? Are you a cop?"

Head of Vice gave her an ingratiating smile. "Detective Lieutenant Evan Scone, and you are?"

Nicole decided to play the wary escort bit. "Waiting for my date. Do you mind? And if you are a cop, where is your badge?"

Evan produced his badge and showed it to her. "You asked if I mind, and in a way, I do, since I'm him."

Nicole smirked at Evan Scone. Not one hint of recognition. Thank God for her accent, makeup, the wig, and changing hair color. She gave him a leering once over and smiled. "Are you on the clock, wearing a wire?"

Now it was Evan's turn to smile. _Cagey little minx…_ "I got off as of ten minutes ago and no wire."

She gave him a teasing smile. "What do your bosses say about this?"

Evan's smile grew a little wider. He liked her spunk, more backbone than that goodie two-shoe Gravely, had. "What they don't know won't hurt them," he said simply.

 _Wonder what Chief Cervantes would think of that?_ Nicole gave him a girlish laugh. "Oh yeah, so what are you looking for?" she said teasingly.

He was really getting into this. _She has really done her homework, read through every bit of my profile…_ "Just a date with a southern girl."

Nicole arched an eyebrow at him. "Nothing kinky?"

"Nope, just a date." Evan noticed the escort seemed to relax a little bit when he said that.

Nicole nodded her head. First hurdle passed. "All right, well, I'm Laura." She held out her hand.

He took her hand. "I knew a Laura once. What's your last name?"

Nicole reacted the way she had seen Moppet and Secsi act when confronted by this kind of question. She pulled back a little. "Sorry, that's not allowed, but I'll take any last name you give me."

 _Blocked. Okay, we'll try this…_ "Are you a native of Alabama?"

 _Fishing expedition…_ "I can be from whatever state you want me to be from," Nicole said in a sultry voice.

Evan though, didn't like that answer. "I'm asking where you are from-"

 _Okay, rule time for novices…_ Sorry, that's not allowed either, unless you are acting in an official capacity. In which case you initially misled me."

 _Checkmate…she's good._ "You sure have a lot of rules."

Laura smiled at him again. "It keeps us safe. You of all people should understand that."

Evan tried to look embarrassed. "I do, sorry."

Laura smiled to let him know there were no hard feelings. This was just business. "Not a problem. Hey, I understand the need to know. So what part of the south are you from?" She upped the curiosity in her voice.

"Missouri," Evan said without a pause.

Nicole's face took on a thoughtful look. "Hmmm, the Great Missouri Raid..."

Evan was forgetting that this 'Laura' had done her research, like all of Alyssa Timshenko's girls do. But she was so polished, so sweet, so unassuming. "You a civil war buff?"

Nicole looked at him shyly. This was fun. She really enjoyed it when she made someone's idea of a 'perfect date'. Even if it was with a slug like Evan. She just pretended it wasn't him. "My Dad was a re-enactor, we lived in West Memphis."

In the back of his mind, Evan made a mental note to discuss with Alvin the idea of leaving Mademoiselle Faberge's intact. "You ever visit the battlefields?" he tried to make it a sound like a casual question.

And failed. Nicole could tell she had hooked him. She gave him a sunny smile. "Sure, lots of times."

Evan made a show of looking around. "Well, there aren't a lot of Civil War battlefields around here."

Nicole laughed as she walked over to him and smoothed his jacket lapels. "Yeah, but we can talk about them, right?" she said with a seductive lilt.

Evan gave her a smile of his own. "Yeah, we can." To Nicole it was a bit disconcerting.

Laura took him by the hand and led him away from the corner. "Well, let's walk to the park and talk."

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

An hour and a half later, Evan Scone walked back down the alleyway to the waiting unmarked car and got in the back.

"Well, boss?" asked balding guy.

Evan closed the door and got seated. The question irritated him. He had been a good mood until now. "Well what?"

Now it was the mustachioed driver's turn. "Was that her, was that Gravely?"

Evan settled into the back seat. _Cute kid, too bad she works for Alyssa…_ He looked at the driver. "Nah, cute though."

Balding guy sighed heavily. "So we're back to square one."

Evan shook his head sadly at the thought of dismantling Ms. Timshenko's operation. _Business is business…_ "Yeah, that about sums it up," he said with a sigh.

"Colstrum won't like it," Balding guy replied.

Evan smirked. "There isn't much that he does like." He tapped the driver. "Let's get out of here."

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Moto's** patrol cruiser and John's unmarked sedan pulled up the home of the late Michael Hill and Amy Davis. Moto and Peter got out of the cruiser while John, Everett and Emily Baker got of the unmarked car. Emily had gotten some time off and really wanted to see the home again, especially this Kerri might be their killer.

Moto lifted the crime scene tape as Backstrom and Agent Baker [taking a much needed break from Mademoiselle Faberge's] briskly walked under it and headed for the front door of the house. John exchanged a look with Peter, who shrugged. Moto came back and lifted the tape for the senior Detective and the SCU Forensic Specialist. The trio joined Backstrom and Baker as they stood in the entrance hall of the defiled home.

"Gravely had said that Amy had a diary," Everett said looking around and down the hallway, "but where would she hide it?"

"The bedroom?" Moto offered.

"Too obvious," Everett said quickly, dismissing that idea as they walked into the living room. Michael Hill's chair was gone, but there were still indentations in the carpet where it had sat.

"What about the bathroom?" Peter said looking down the hallway toward that room.

Emily made a face. "I know you guys like to read, like, a lot, in there. But storing a diary in a bathroom would be impractical. You know, you have all that water around that would ruin it,"

Peter nodded his agreement, "You're right, good point," he conceded.

"I say we try the home office," John suggested.

"Good a place as any to start," Everett replied as their made their way to the home office room.

The room itself smelled musty, as if it was rarely used. There was a bed in one corner with a nightstand. There was a reading lamp on the stand and few decorative pillows on the bed on the opposite side of the room from the bed was a closet and two sets of book shelves completely filled with paperback and hardback books of all different kinds.

Backstrom motioned to the books, "Look for a volume that looks out of place – no obvious title or cover art."

John, Moto, and Emily began examining the books. As they did, a blue gloved Peter sat down at the desk and turned on the computer. Everett came over and stood behind his shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked as he watched Peter's fingers fly over the keyboard.

"I'm thinking it might be too literal to think of Amy's diary as being a real paper diary. It's possible that it could be an electronic one," he said as he continued typing.

The Head of the SCU gave Neidermayer a surprised look. "A file on a computer?

Peter nodded as he scanned the files that appeared on the screen. "A hidden file, maybe even in a separate directory or separate partition on the drive…."

Emily stopped looking at the books and walked over to Peter and Everett. "That's a good theory," she said in complimentary tone.

Peter turned to her and smiled. Glad that she was acknowledging his theory was a sound. "Thank you," he said warmly.

Everett quickly inserted himself between these two. "Wait a minute, are you telling me our dead woman might have kept a hidden file on her husband's computer, detailing the most intimate details of her life, right under his nose?"

Emily looked at the files on the screen. "Amy strikes me as a person who liked to live on the edge, so to speak, not swallowing swords or skydiving off buildings, but in her own way she liked being a rebel," she said to Everett with a sly smile.

"How lyrical," Peter said admiring her profile of this dead woman, "Do you write poetry?"

Emily gave him a whimsical look. "Only if you can count a really dirty version of 'There once was a man from-'"

"We're not finding anything here, Everett," John said interrupting Emily

Everett made a face, "Well, I guess we'll see if thrill seeker Amy wrote her deepest darkest secrets in electronic form,"

"Aha!" Peter exclaimed, "There is a hidden partition on this drive!"

Emily and Everett leaned closer over Peter's shoulder. John and Moto also came over to look as well.

"…but the file is encrypted," Peter said, disappointment filling his voice.

Backstrom though, wasn't so easily deterred. "You're smart, Neidermayer. Go ahead and break it open, I'm giving you permission."

The SCU Forensic Specialist shook his head. "It's not that easy, Lieutenant. I need to take this computer back to our office and let Nadia help me unlock it."

Everett gave him a quizzical look. "Are you sure this isn't just an obvious play for time to work with Nadia up close and personal while you're on the clock, Neidermayer?"

"No, I really need her expertise on this," Peter said quickly. John and Moto shared a smirk. Emily tried her best to hide her smile.

"Let him go and do it, Everett. There could be something on there that could help us solve both cases. Besides, do I detect a little hidden jealousy at your forensic specialist working with office computer analyst?" Emily said with a sly look.

John and Moto exchanged a silent look of agreement about that statement.

Everett made a shooing motion toward Peter, "Fine! Go play footsie with Nadia-but it had better end with you decrypting that file and finding something fantastic," he threatened.

Peter Neidermayer turned off the computer and began unplugging it. "I'll do my best, Lieutenant."

"You'd better," Everett warned the New Age-leaning Forensic Specialist as he headed out of the room.

"Well, there's nothing on the bookshelves that even remotely looks like a diary," Emily stated with obvious disgust. "So she's not hiding it in plain sight."

"Well then, let's look in the closets starting with these," Everett said heading over to the closet.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*  
 **  
"Okay,** so nothing in the home office except for the computer with the hidden file," Everett declared flatly.

"So where do check now?" John asked innocently.

Everett made a face. "The bedroom," he said quietly as he quickly headed out of the room followed by Emily.

Moto gave John an 'I told you so' look as they headed down the hall to the bedroom. SCU senior detective gave the PPB beat officer a knowing smile.

When they reached the room, Everett and Emily looked around as if searching for something. The bed had been removed but that's not what they were looking for.

Everett and Emily opened the drawers to the nightstands that stood on either side of where the bed would have been. Then the headed to dresser drawer and tore open the undergarment drawers.

"No books in here," Emily declared.

Everett shot her a disgusted look until he started feeling around under the nightstand drawer. His offended look morphed into the grin of Cheshire cat. "Oho ho ho, what do we have here?" he said pulling the drawer out and flipping it over with a dramatic flourish.

Moto looked at the underside of the drawer. "An empty pocket," he stated.

Everett stopped smiling and looked at it for a moment before regaining his momentum. "Yes, it's empty now, but that means it was here," he said emphatically.

"Forensics didn't mention finding any book," John reported as he scanned the room looking for another possibly place to hide a diary. Nothing.

"Maybe they forgot to mention it," Moto offered.

Emily walked over to the closet, "Not likely, they are usually pretty good at mentioning hidden gems like that."

She opened the bedroom closet folding doors revealing a closet full of clothes and shoes and lots of shoeboxes.

Emily turned back to the men. "But she might have had an alternative place to stash it if she was entertaining in the bedroom."

Everett, John and Moto came over to look at the open closet.

"That's a lot of shoes," Moto remarked.

Everett picked up one of the boxes and shook it. It was empty. "Or a good place to hide a diary."

"Look at this," Emily Everett and Moto turned to see that John had pulled back a series of evening gowns to reveal a small locked filing cabinet.

"Jewel and valuables?" Moto asked.

"And possibly something else," John added. He produced a lock pick tool and began to jimmy the cabinet lock.

Meanwhile Moto was looking at shoeboxes. "Lieutenant, what would you say about a scuffed up box in the middle of a bunch of pristine ones?"

Emily began reaching for the boxes, "I'd say you've found a clue, Scooby."

Everett reached for the box before Emily could get to it. "I'm homemaker with a secret life, I want to record my exploits not only as insurance, but as something I can look back at later on as a remembrance…

Everett opened the scuffed box and pulled out a small paperback sized book with a lock on it. The lock was undone.

"She put it in there in a hurry, no time to lock it," Emily observed.

Everett opened the book flipping through the pages with his gloved hands, Emily looked over his shoulder. Everett began nodding. "She revels in her double life—it's a thrill for her…uht oh…"

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Moto asked, moving closer to Emily and Everett

Everett began reading "This is under a section called 'A personal note about Kerri Tanner' …Kerri's a little weird, but I can handle her. She's coming over later this evening so we can talk. I know it's risky with Michael being here, but I can handle this….

"What's the date?" John asked his voice filling with dread.

"October 12, 2017." Everett said his voice filling with dread. "The night of the double murder."

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

" **Brittany** , please take a seat," Alyssa said to Emily. The FBI Agent noted Alyssa was seated behind her desk and Jon was seated in front of the desk to her left. He had a folder in his hands.

Neither one smiled at her. Not good.

"Sure, boss, what's up?" Emily said breezily as she came into the office. Something was up, but she decided to play it cool.

Jon got up from his chair and walked over to her with a sheaf of papers in his hand. "Brittany, we've gotten several complaints about you."

Brittany had to good sense to look stunned. "Complaints?! What kind of complaints?!" she practically yelped. This was not good. Being undercover was one thing, doing something that gets you unwanted attention- that could be disastrous.

Jon looked at his papers and then back at Brittany. "Mike Thummson said you had garlic breath."

 _Oh crap_. "I ate, like, a half a tin of breath mints before I met with him!" she said defensively.

"This happened on two other occasions with two other clients," he stated clinically.

Brittany seemed to ponder that. "I wondered why they got off the ride half-way." Both Jon and Alyssa gave her a look. Jon motioned for her to sit down.

"They never said anything to me about it!" she squeaked as she sat down.

Jon, now sitting across from her, looked back down at his papers. "You sneezed into Fred Tumlin's mouth."

Now Brittany shook her head. "That was an accident. I told him my allergies had been acting up that day…"

"Then you…" Jon consulted his papers again. "You…threw up on Hal Prindell."

"I said I was sorry…it was some bad sushi that caused that…really…" Brittany said meekly.

"Jayron Michaels said you had really bad indigestion one night…said you were 'tooting like a horn'…."

"I think that was related to the sushi," she replied thinking quickly. "I told him I was sorry for all the noise…."

Jon didn't seem impressed by this news. "You've overslept at least twice, missing morning appointments…"

Emily was ready for this one. "I got a new alarm clock to fix that," she said confidently.

Jon exchanged a pained look with Alyssa before looking back at her. He looked again at the papers in his hands and sighed. "Brittany, an isolated incident here or there is to be expected, but one would think with all these incidents that you aren't serious about the job."

Emily was ready to defend herself against these accusations. "Hey, in my defense I've gone out with several other gentlemen and not had any problems."

Jon sighed again. "Those were escort dates…it seems though anytime you have one that involves sex, something comes up." He finished by giving her a pointed look.

 _Uht oh._ "Any chance I could do what Laura is doing…I mean, I'm really good at that girlfriend stuff and the escorting stuff too," she said quickly.

Jon and Alyssa exchanged another look. Alyssa gave Brittany a dour look. "Brittany…maybe you should consider another line of work…" she began.

 _Screw it, they were going to find out sooner or later anyway._ "Okay, look, before we go any further, maybe I should tell you my real name isn't Brittany Peters, it's Emily Baker, Special Agent Emily Baker, Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Emily was expecting surprised looks. Oddly, they seemed totally indifferent to this news.

"Actually, Special Agent Baker, we already knew who you were," Alyssa replied.

Emily wasn't sure how to respond to that. "You did?"

Jon gave her a knowing smile. "We just wanted to see if you would tell us or if we were going to have to drag it out of you."

"Why is an FBI agent slumming in a Portland nightclub, Agent Baker, and by the way, doing a poor job of it, to boot?" Alyssa asked. "And did you force Laura to get you in here?"

 _That was uncalled for! Well, if they know this much they probably know the rest…_ "I'm working with Detective Sergeant Nicole Gravely, better known to you as Laura Renee Walters, and Detective Lieutenant Everett Backstrom's Special Crimes Unit."

Now this did come as shock to them. "Laura is a PBP Detective?" Jon asked as if he didn't believe her.

 _Really? This they didn't know?_ She gave them her own artful smile. "Don't feel bad, she has half of the PBP and Portland's organized crime figures hoodwinked as well. I have to say she's really good."

"What are you two doing infiltrating my nightclub?" Alyssa said, her voice becoming a little demanding as she finished.

 _Honesty is the best policy…_ "We're searching for a serial killer. We strongly believe that she is responsible for deaths of Amy Hill and Michael Davis as well as at least of score of other deaths across the country."

"A serial killer?" Jon said doubtfully.

Emily nodded. "Thanks to Detective Backstrom's unit, we've been able to piece together that our killer likes to work in brothels, strip clubs, nightclubs, dance clubs and social clubs."

"And you think we inadvertently hired her," Alyssa said making it sound more like a statement than a question-and little accusatory at that.

Emily though, was not flustered. "Yes, inadvertently, yes, she's that good. Melts into any background. Every time we think we've got a lead on her, she vanishes without a trace." "She's an indiscriminate killer of both sexes and any race."

"Don't serial killers usually have a modus operandi?" Jon asked.

Jon was familiar with police terms. Interesting. Former law enforcement, maybe? Emily filed that away for future reference.

"Usually, but this one doesn't fit into any mold that we know of. The only thing close to that is her affinity for bondage and vodka," Emily replied.

"And as federal agent you're not concerned about our…business…" Jon replied slowly.

Emily decided to give them the official version and her personal opinion. "The City of Portland made it clear to the FBI that your establishment is as close to a legal operation as you can get in Oregon. Personally I'm not concerned about morality and the wages of sin. I'm looking to stop a killer before she kills again."

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x

 _Oh Yuri, I'm glad you aren't here now…_ Alyssa Timshenko sighed heavily. Two kids from the Ukraine trying to stay distant from the Mafiya while running their own 'business'. They had survived a lot. Endured a lot. The police, local mobsters, and competing operations but they finally felt like they were secure—that they had a life and way to support it. And then Yuri was killed. His bullet riddled body was pulled from the Willamette one frosty November morning. The police knew it was mob hit, but with no leads and no witnesses, the case went cold pretty quickly. Not long after that, an east coast 'representative' appeared on her doorstep one day with an offer of protection. There was only one stipulation—they would make the rules and Alyssa and her girls would answer to them. But the daughter of farmer parents and wife of her late strong willed husband had learned not to give up or give in so easily. Plus she had made a lot of friends on both sides of the tracks. Though nothing could be tied directly to Alyssa, many, including the east coast 'representative' learned not to provoke her wrath.

Now this, a second police operation had infiltrated her club, threatening to blow apart everything she and Yuri had worked so hard for. She had survived the first time but could they survive a second disaster of this magnitude?

Alyssa gave the PBP Detective Sergeant a somber look "Just one question, Nicole. Are you trying to destroy my business?" It was an honest question and it deserved an honest answer.

Nicole looked from Jon to Alyssa and sighed. "My job is to stop Portland organized crime and the Russian Mafiya from ruining your business through drug running, human trafficking, child molestation and other unseemly acts and operations. You know when I was here before that was who I targeted – the bad elements in the Johns and in your workers. I wasn't trying to bring down your operation."

Jon and Alyssa seemed unmoved by her explanation, so she continued. "Like Lieutenant Backstrom, I understand that all the raids, sting operations, and legal restrictions won't make your profession go away. What I am trying to do is help you maintain that high standard that you have set for your operation."

That seemed to soften their harsh judgmental looks a little, so Nicole decided maybe if she told them what really brought her back, they would help. "Unlike last time, I'm truly after a killer. You probably heard about Amy's death at her Lake Oswego home."

Jon nodded when he heard her mention Lake Oswego. Alyssa was more vocal. "I couldn't believe what happened to her. What an awful way for her and her husband to go, who do you think did it?"

"We have reason to believe it was someone who worked with Amy named Kerri," Nicole replied.

Jon looked at Alyssa and then at Nicole. "We have several girls who work here that go by the name Kerri." Apparently it was a popular alias.

Nicole sighed. "I know, that's part of the problem. But it's important that we find her."

"Why is it so important?" Sure she was murderer and it was important to find her, but why the undercover operation, why all the urgency? Emily had told them, but they wanted to hear it from Nicole as well. Just in case Emily hadn't told them the truth.

Nicole didn't disappoint. "We think Kerri is a serial killer. She may be responsible for more than 20 deaths across the country—men, women…and children," She knew that their serial killer hadn't killed that many people – yet. Then again, maybe she had, either way, Nicole hoped it was enough to convince them to help her.

"Braz Moi_My God ," Alyssa breathed, her face looked as though it had drained of all blood.

For the first time Jon looked visibly upset. "Children? How could anyone hurt a child?" This was obviously a hot button issue for him.

Nicole hoped this next statement would scare them into action. "She's a very unstable and dangerous person. The problem is she's a chameleon. She blends right into any operation she is currently working for be it a brothel, social club, or nightclub."

Two women, the same chilling story. Jon and Alyssa shared a concerned look and then focused on Nicole. "How can we help?"

Thank God she had gotten through to them. "All we know about her for sure is that she has an affinity for vodka and for bondage."

Jon and Alyssa looked at each other for a moment. Again Nicole confirmed what Emily had told them.

Nicole noted their disturbed expressions. "What is it?"

"Brittany, that is, FBI Agent Baker-she told us the same thing about your Kerri."

Nicole nodded. "We have to find her before she kills again. Can you help me?"

"I'll set up interviews this afternoon at the bar. I'll call them employment security reviews." Alyssa offered. She was clearly on board with this. But what about Jon?

"I'll make sure all the girls go, that includes you and Special Agent Baker," Jon added.

That was just what Nicole was hoping to hear. "Right, we don't want to tip her off that we're looking for her." She gave them both a grateful look. "I can't thank you enough for your help with this…but there is one other favor I'd like to ask."

"You've earned that right doing what you've done here so far and what you're doing now," Alyssa replied. Nicole was flattered by the response and it made it easier to make this request. One that could be seen by some as an obsession.

 _Here goes…_ "There is a person in law enforcement that frequents your nightclub, other than Everett Backstrom, who is responsible for my getting kicked out of Vice and all my hard work being tossed out. We think he may have lead the serial killer to Amy and may be working with Detective Lieutenant Evan Scone."

Alyssa looked at Jon.

"That would be Sheriff Alvin Colstrum" Jon replied.

Nicole was flabbergasted. She had expected someone in law enforcement. But never this person. "The Multnomah County Sheriff?!"

Alyssa nodded. "He's very vindictive and he's into – let's call them 'shady' business operations. You were infringing on his turf."

"And you insulted him by nearly arresting him," Jon added with a hint of worry in his voice.

x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

 **Kerri Tanner** stood on her balcony and smoked as she watch the dull red evening sun slip behind some incoming storm clouds. She wished she had some vodka right now. But she was getting ready for a client.

"Knock, knock," Nicole said as she came out onto the balcony. "Moppet asked me to come get you. Your prince awaits you downstairs."

Kerri smirked as she stubbed out her cigarette and threw it on the balcony deck. "You got a way with words, Miss Walters." She took a breath spray out of her purse and sent a couple of spritzes into her open mouth and then cleared her throat. She gave Nicole a sultry look. "How do I look?"

Nicole felt a bit uneasy. Maybe it was the way Kerri was looking at her. "Drop dead gorgeous," she felt like she had blurted it out, but she really hadn't.

Kerri gave her a perky smile. Nicole was a cute little Alabama hottie, maybe with some time and a little effort…and she noticed something else, maybe it was the way she was carrying herself, but maybe it was something else. "You're sweet," she cooed at her. Kerri looked at her watch. _Damn._ "Okay, lead me to him. Showtime."

As Kerri headed into the bedroom, Nicole reached into her purse and fumbled her makeup bag onto the deck, spilling its contents.

"Oh Damn!" Nicole exclaimed in fake exasperation.

Kerri stuck her head back out of the door. "What is it, hon?"

"Dammit, I dropped my emergency makeup kit! Go on downstairs without me," Nicole said as she bent down to retrieve the scattered contents.

Kerri smirked at this little hottie bouncing all around on her balcony. It reminded her of her little sister, Bonnie, who she hadn't thought about in years. _Huh, how about that, she does look like her…._ "Butterfingers. Well, I'd help, but I'm running late, so just lock my door when you finish picking up, all right?"

"You got it. Thanks, Kerri," Nicole called out to her as she headed out of her apartment.

"No problem, Butterfingers." And with that, Kerri closed her door.

Nicole fought the urge to shiver. Talking to Kerri was like swimming with a barracuda. She quickly gathered up her stuff and then looking around to be sure no one was watching, went over the edge of the balcony and picked up Kerri's discarded cigarette with a tissue. She quickly got out her burner phone and touched the speed dial.

"Frank, it's Nicole. I need to meet you in the lobby. I've got cigarette butt from Kerri Tanner, the one I was telling you about earlier. Get Neidermayer to work his magic on this."


End file.
